Radiated
by Deximon
Summary: They had only one job. Protect the powered engine, he said. If it was found, then destroy it. So they did. Now with new mutated powers, the gang must learn to live life with them. But how can they...and especially when the facility workers want them now fused with the energy of the core? Rated T for violence. (HIATUS)(READ BIO)
1. Chapter 1: Hiding

Two pairs of inky black tires of a beaten Ford truck swerved dangerously among the empty dark road. It was a warm spring night, where the only sound was the screeching of the tires as the driver yanked the steering wheel sharply as to the point the truck tilted to one side and landed harshly on all four again. The driver winced and licked his lips anxiously as he made another sharp right. The tires in his brain were driving as quickly as the truck and his adrenaline was as high as his speed limit. What is causing him the stress, he simply can't say; his information being carried is the most mildly classified and it could cause potential danger if told to the wrong people.

The man scratched his stubble and kept looking in his review mirror. Nobody seemed to be following him. Swallowed hard, he took another shockingly sharp left towards society. To be personal, it was his biggest dread. Before he wheeled himself into a violent frenzy back at his facility, he was the most distant of the cliques. Probably because of his mild fascination of nuclear energy, perhaps? Whatever it was, he had taken back one of his greatest works and he must face people who will ask what in the world he was hiding with colorfully knitted blankets in the back of the Ford. Can he say a deadly nuclear engine core that can be used to determine the fate of all future wars? You can guess his answer.

He looked on his map in the passenger seat to the nearest town, which was a good thing. Throughout the day, he managed to pass through a state and a half with no stop breaks. Now, it was finally taking a toll on him. He was tired, he was hungry, he had to pee. But his fears and doubts distracted him long enough to get to Oklahoma, which works for him. As long as it was far away enough to make sure the directors at his facility won't find his masterpiece, then he'll be safe. But the rushing feeling he had from him taking back his core must've kept him going.

Anyway, the driver managed to find a small light in the seat compartment and kept looking at the map, and that there was a small town there. It seemed to be pretty close. He could get some supplies, get a place to lay over and hide himself. And perhaps, if he could swallow his doubts deep into the back of his mind, he could find someone or someplace eligible to take the energy-filled core. This town might be his best bet into keeping the world safe.

The driver yawned and looked at the clear road straight ahead. He was going to Tulsa.

**oooOOooo**

The wheels on the Ford truck moved quietly through the town, in comparing irony to how it was on the way there. The man's blue eyes moved quickly and his breathing was hefty. Why, besides being back into where he had to interact with people about his's life's work? Because of the men and woman in Tulsa. He must've entered a pretty beaten up town, and the folks seemed pretty low-life to him. The girls walking around had the tightest jeans possible with curls on curls and a few skirts. The boys wore leather jackets with their collars flipped up and smoking and drinking quite heavily. The streetlights were the only things illuminating their faces, giving the drivers that came by a shifting view of the uncaring lip curls on their faces. This was perfect.

Completely unsuspecting.

But as the driver looked around some more for a nice place to lay low, his eyes finally saw it. A gas station, just a moment away. He drove closer and there already seemed to be two people. Teenage boys, in fact. He squinted closer. They seemed to be closing up shop and talking by the tall tank fillers on the outside of the station. One boy had dark hair kept in complicated swirls with tons of hair grease. Judging by his posture and the way he laughed at the other boy, the man could tell he seemed pretty cocky to whatever was thrown at him. The other one had a drawn sensitive face, and the man admit, he looked pretty attractive. Especially for females. He had dark gold hair and lively brown eyes.

He inhaled. Does this seem like a good place? What if they tell someone? They seemed like they would talk to their families and other hoodlum friends about what they should be protecting. It could be risky. But on the other hand...think about it. A gas station and two greasy workers no more than eighteen. It was the perfect setup. They couldn't find him or the core here. They _couldn't_.

Shaking his shoulders to clear all signs of apprehensiveness, he guided the truck up to the parking of the station. The man flipped up his long coat collar and finally stepped out, closing the door behind him with a slam and causing two sets of eyeballs gazing at him.

**oooOOooo**

**AS YOU CAN SEE, I AM NOT DEAD! (lol sorry)**

**Hello! So, I wrote another story, (about time, dude. you've been gone for a month!) and I feel pretty shaky. Did I start out my character too weak? Sorry. I'm still new to the writing thing and I feel really anxious about this. I _LOVE_ The Outsiders, let me tell you! It's such a good book and I wanted to write a story on it. I suck so bad at beginnings, so you can leave criticism (not too mean nor destructive. i wanna keep writing.) if you request. But hey, you made it to the author's note, so thank you for reading! If you liked it, then I hope you'll stick around if I continue! I'lll try to make it better than the summary sounds. Thanks for reading and I'll see you soon! ;3**

**-Deximon**


	2. Chapter 2: One Job

The harshly loud slam of a cheap-looking Ford truck was what had taken the attention of Steve Randle and Sodapop Curtis away from their conversation to face the tall, and seemingly anxious looking, man who stared at them back with his blue eyes all worn out. He wore a closed wrinkled tan trench coat with brown hair that looked as if he hadn't brushed it in days. The man bored his vision on the two teenage greasers with an edgy snarl on his light stubble until finally, after a few more seconds of the world's most anticipated and mildly disturbing staring contest, the stranger yelped from afar.

"Hey! You two! Could you stop giving me the evil eye and get over here?"

Steve and Soda flinched at the sudden boom from the gruffness of his voice. They looked at each other in a mildly nervous fashion. It wasn't just about how this man was looking at them. It was almost like they were being inspected beyond their certain greasy trashiness; it unsettled them. Offering them a few red flags. But for some crazy reason, they obliged. Well, at least to go get answers from this man. What his favor was, they can turn it down if too unsettling. Besides, with a customer looking as shifty and shady as he seemed, he can't possibly ask for much, right?

Of course, looks can be deceiving.

The man in the trench coat was tapping his fingers rapidly against the hard material of the back of the truck, his eyes flickering every now and then at a giant lump covered in hand-knitted pastel-colored blankets. Steve felt an uneasiness pierce his stomach. The way his cold-and-icy-as-Dally's blue eyes looked at the lump showed major concern and distrust; man, it bothered him to no end. He cleared his throat loudly, causing the man to stop his silent conversation with the concealed heap and look at the two greasers. But before he could get a word in, Steve begun the new conversation.

His voice moved like an iron fist as he spoke. "Y'know that DX hours are over, right? You ain't getting that Ford fixed till tomorrow, so you better leave it here and head back. And take whatever's in there with ya too." He gestured his palm towards the blankets in his usual reckless and careless manner. But it was the wrong move.

The man's brows angled downwards slowly and Steve swore that his eyes twitched just barely. "H-Hey, slow down there, buddy. I-I'm not asking for my truck to get a fix job. Fine the stinkin' way it is. To add, I'm not your enemy here, so you better be careful with that cocky attitude there boy because what I'm gonna show you is something not to be messed with on any level and we don't need any more of your trash talk all over the issue!", he hissed, pointing a stumbling index finger in Steve's direction.

Steve's facial features doesn't change a bit in his outburst, but his eyes blink rapidly and his upper lip twitched. Soda, however, looked like he finally wanted to have a say in the matter, Steve noticed. "What do you want from us?", Soda breathed in the lowest voice, a voice just about softer but ever the tougher as Steve's.

Like Steve, the man's facial expression didn't falter ever the wiser. "Believe me, kids, I-I don't wanna do this any more than you do. But hey, life ain't fair. You're the best chance this whole goddamn world's got! So you better keep your traps shut about what Imma 'bout to show you!" His voice was upsettingly rising, coming to the point where he was close enough to strangle Soda there on the spot. Soda's arms were already up covering his neck, ready for self-defense.

But instead, the man changed swiftly the direction towards the hidden lump and tore roughly at the blankets, his callous-like and chapped-looking fingers tearing the material. Once all the blankets have found new refuge on the floor, the teenage DX workers' faces have changed ever the drastically. While the man had on a calming look, his younger viewers had on a mask of pure confusion and mild terror.

Right there, exposed on the back of that truck, was a large piece of engine-like machinery. Illuminating a bright magenta freely through the darkness.

Steve had no words. For one of those few times in his life, he didn't understand. Why was there this shady stranger showing up at their station and giving them this engine who was too high tech for Steve's own skill? The man himself seemed against it, so why was he giving them this…this thing? What was going on? Either way, Steve was just about ready to get some answers, and if necessary, shut down the case. His fingers curled together, forming tight fists.

"What do you want from us? Who are you? What in the name of God is that?", he grunted violently. The man's expression darkened suddenly as the questions leaked from Steve's mouth. He turned to face him.

"You don't seem on board with this favor. But I'm not asking for permission. S-So if you wanna know what's going on, I'm not going into detail about it. I'll tell you, but I don't want any of you to be finding a way to back outta this."

Soda and Steve nodded. Well, it's more Soda nodded, in a reluctant way. Steve himself just held his own, glazing his eyes over between the engine and the trench coat-wearing guy whose fists are jammed in the pockets.

He took an uneven breath. "Since I know that you are wondering, my name is Jake McAllister. I'm a nuclear physicist and I work at a facility out of state. What facility name and where it is, I-I'm not gonna tell.", he explained, his stammer barely creeping its way into his voice.

"What you're seeing is a-a…" He stops. Steve can see tiny sweat beads raining down the side of his forehead. But he keeps going. "An engine core I invented, made of nuclear energy. My head director was so captivated by the amount of possibilities of what it could do and how it would affect our cavalry to assist in the Vietnam War."

His blue eyes were haunted, deep and disturbed, but he kept talking anyway.

"But I learned of his thoughts; I learned his vison, what he was hoping to happen. He planned to use this to upgrade our machinery and wreck unimaginable havoc upon Nam…it wasn't just to fight, it was to make everyone there suffer. So I stole it. I broke out off my workspace and took it. I'm wanted now. I had nowhere else to turn. F***…the world depends on it. So I'm practically begging you, please…please hide it here."

Steve and Soda didn't know what to say. Now of all the crazy things that happened to them in their lives, this was about the most insane. There was no way they could believe all this crazy-ass shit…at least, if this "nuclear core" wasn't just revealed to their very eyes before the whole explanation.

Soda took a step forward and put his tender fingers in support, but backing them away slightly when he flinched and tightened up, with patient yet frightened eyes. It was contrast to Steve strong and merciless yet just as frightened ones. "W-Well, if we could hide this…thing, then where do you want us to do-"

"I don't c-care where you hide it! Just hide it somewhere where nobody will find it, goddamn y-you! And you better not tell a soul, either!"

Steve's brows angled downwards the moment Jake's tight hand smacked Soda's hand away from him. He felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. With all his might and being, his fists shoved Jake in the chest, pushing him far enough with such force he fell backwards onto the back of the truck.

"Hey, for the record, you ain't got a f***ing crock of right on yerself to talk at my pal that way. He ain't done nothing to you! We aren't babysitting your engine-core thingy either! You are not dragging our asses into your mess, so if you're that desperate, dump it in a lake! I saw a river just a few miles west; do your thing there!", he grunted loudly. He can feel Soda's gentle hand beside his shoulder, the force turning them around, backs facing the fallen man behind them.

Soda's voice was lowered when he spoke. "Steve, listen for a minute. I'm not as upbeat about this guy or that core-thing, and I'm not much of a take-a-world-threatening-device caretaker, but…", he swallowed, whiskey-colored eyes, trailing the ground.

"Maybe we should hide this thing somewhere. Maybe here, deep in the storage room."

Steve's eyes begun widening at Soda's statement. He couldn't believe what he was hearing!

"Sodapop, why in the ever-loving planet should we? None of us should be involved in this! A stranger shows up to us in the dead of night with that hunk of garbage and tells us that he broke the rules of his work and he's giving us blame for something he made himself! Let's just get him and that engine away from here and we could actually sleep tonight knowing that this is one less thing we have to worry about!", Steve hissed at him, pointing an infuriated finger towards Jake, who was staring at them with wide eyes.

Soda's eyes changed, going from blank and monotone to sad. "Yeah, I got that. Like I said, I'm not really up to trusting the guy. And believe me when I say this, I'm real spooked about that engine too…what it could do to us. But he must've had a ecent reason that he wanted us to take care of it-"

"No, Soda. We aren't doing it. Discussion over."

"C'mon, Steve. Can we-"

Sodapop Curtis, I said no! Now can we just drop the f***ing topic already please?!"

Soda and Steve held eyes for a long time, in contrast from Soda's stressed brown eyes to Steve's irritated hazel eyes. Jake didn't say anything, feeing as well to uphold is own. As for that, Steve was glad. He thought that that man knew better and he kept his own trap shut when such a matter was being engaged. Well, for the most part.

He also thought about Soda's statement. Of course Soda would prefer to commit to Jakes favor. He always had a heart of gold like that. Steve had known his happy-go-lucky best friend since grade school to know that anything as serious as this should be looked towards, no matter the score. He had to respect that. Not for the goddamn world, but for Sodapop.

With a deep breath and a shake of his head, Steve can see Soda's eyes lighten. He knew he had won the argument. The two greasers turned on their heels to face Jake again, who was looking hopeful and exhausted.

"So, I've talked to my partner-in-crime here and we've decided on a harsh note…to hide the engine or core or whatever that piece of shit is.", Steve grunted, crossing his arms. Jake's face lightened with a small splash of relief and turned to startled once Steve took a threatening step forward.

His voice was deadly and low, only him and Jake could understand. "But for the record, I'm not doing this for you or your 'facility' or the world because I'm not gonna be some hero who stupidly got themselves in this shit because someone was being an ass. I'm doing this for my friend. Don't go winning the lottery and thinking that everything will be okay all because you gave your problem to a bunch of hoods, you get me?"

A nod was all he needed. That and a gun, once Jake shoved Steve out of his face.

**oooOOooo**

Soda examined the silver gun with his brow raised (a trick he picked up from his dear friend Two-Bit Mathews) while Steve and Jake unloaded the engine out of the truck and back into the station. Soda also had the keys, so he would close up shop again when they were done hiding the thing.

"Uh, Jake…or ? If I may, what is the gun for?", Soda questioned, shaking the weapon whilst holding it a bit higher.

Jake turned his way lazily. "Oh, th-that? That's to shoot the core. I wanted to do it myself, but a whole joint could be destroyed a few meters through one bullet. Plus, I-I was on the run. I had to make sure they couldn't find it. Well, d-don't point it at me!"

Soda mouth opened a bit as his fist tightened around the storage room knob, excusing the grunts of Steve and Jake. "You want us to destroy it? Didn't you tell us to hide it?"

Jake turned toward him, wiping his hands on his coat. "I-I do want you to hide it. But if the facility finds it, you blow the thing to hell. You'll know what the security at my work are if they gruffly interrogate you about some crazy engine that's used for America.", he responded, taking a glance at Steve's hard disbelieving face as the three men walk out the door.

**oooOOooo**

Jake dashed to that cheap Ford the minute Soda locked up the DX again for the second time that night. He quickly slammed the door beside him and fastened his seatbelt, but soon gets a knock at the car window by Steve.

He rolls it down and Steve whispers, "Can destroy a few meters of the joint? You love running away from your problems, do you?"

Jake exhales hard and looks away. Steve starts again. "Like I told you earlier, I'm doing this for my friend. He sees this as a life-or-death situation and wants to help or something. But don't go feeling high and mighty about this."

Steve felt the utter radiation of Jake's doubt rolling off his body, albeit he was walking away. He joined Soda back at the gas fillers and they exchanged hesitant looks. As the Ford truck made its lucky break far away from the DX, Steve and Soda climbed themselves aboard Steve's own truck, Soda placing the gun in the car pocket, Steve couldn't seem to shake away the steamy feeling deep in his gut.

That core will stir up trouble for everyone. He just knew it.

**oooOOooo**

**Well, that took effort at late nights. :/**

**Let's start this off by saying, I'm so sorry for the long update! I had school and swimming compitetions, and I kept rewriting this chapter from scratch because neither Steve or Soda or Dr. McAllister sat well with me. Luckily, spring break gave me some time to write, so I was able to get this done! BTW, I apologize if they seemed too OOC. Just say the word(s). I will try to make it better. Promise! ;P**

**One more thing, thank you to my top (only) five reviewers! And of course to all those who favorited and my follower too! And as always to us authors, thank you to the viewers for reading! Y'all meant so much to me knwing that you loved that first chapter! I got my chapter three wheels turning and the gang's powers are chosen. So, for that, Imma do that thing that some authors do and answer those fiver reviews:**

**Sally- I'm glad you do! Thank you for reading!**

**Guest- Thanks! I love knowing that my first chapter started good, so that meant a lot! ;)**

**animefreak5355- Your update wish is granted. Thx so much!**

**akiogirl123- You'll see! The wish is granted. Glad you liked it!**

**soraxtsuna123- Hey, I said that I would go back as a checklist, didn't I? XD (Even reread Steve's parts in the book to try to better understand his nature. Still trying. He wasn't mentioned much.) It makes me so happy to know you enjoyed my suspense! I have plans for my bois, so my wheels are turning on continuing. You keep up the good work yourself! Thanks so much for reading!**

**Thank you for viewing, but now, I gotta go. See y'all next time. Bye! ;3**

**-Deximon**


	3. Chapter 3: Soda's Nuclear Nightmare

**(Trigger warning: Disturbing visuals. You have been warned. Please read with caution. If you will be unsettled by the nightmare, please skip to the oooOOOooo and non-italic font. That's where the rest of the story will progress. Thank you for your time. Now onto the fic!)**

_Footsteps and desperate pants are heard from afar as Sodapop dashed through the streets of Tulsa's East side, known to the social classes as greaser territory. Normally, the streets would be bustling with cars driving up and down, greasers looking sly, and Socs being menacing by jumping the sly-looking greasers. But there was nothing there. Everything around him was deserted. The buildings were quiet and calm, the air was still, and time seemed to stop. Maybe that was why running across town wasn't so difficult. Everything around him is a hazy grey; there was not one splash of color in sight. Even the sky was colorless!_

_A low growl was heard behind him, causing Soda to turn his own head back. A dark silhouette was shown to him, under a bright streetlight. Two milky orbs of white shone, in contrast to the shining light above. But its identity wasn't phased in the slightest. It approached the boy at a seemingly fast pace and hissed in a booming dark voice that gave Soda chills down his spine._

_"We know...you have it. Where is it?"_

_Soda begun walking backwards at this point, for the satisfaction of fully facing the hidden identity in front of him. He shook his head; he knew what this person seemed to be talking about. But he played dumb anyway. He my not be book-smart, but he was intelligent in the streets. It wasn't like he was gonna allow this mysterious person to work himself over the burden laying on his consciousness._

_"Where is what?", he called. The growl from the silhouette grew itself louder and it started to walk at a faster pace than before._

_"You know what it is! Where is it?", boomed the voice, practically breaking Soda's eardrums. Nervous, Soda tried running again. He didn't stop this time, though; he didn't even bother to make a head turn and check briefly if the shadow was following him. His lungs in his chest were close to bursting and his legs were aching and itching from running so far. But he kept going. Of course, Soda didn't know where he would be heading, but it was better than being within six feet of the stranger._

_Well, the mysterious stranger, of course._

_It was about another half mile or so when Soda had to finally give into his legs' temptation to stop and take a break, because he ran all the way to the familiar sense of work of the DX gas station and collapsed on all fours just in the middle of the building's parking lot. His breaths were ragged and his lungs felt like flames within his own body. But there were only two things on his mind: how much everything ached like a storm, and whether the shady person underneath the lamppost had followed him or let him be. But as most days, luck just wasn't on his side._

_Soda hissed through his teeth when he felt the cold fingertips scrape themselves against his sweaty skin. The other hand grabbed a fistful of his hair and held him up to face him, leaving Soda to just be on his knees. The silhouette made a face-to-face contact with the teen, his white orbs of light shining into Soda so hard the gaze might've burned his eyes through his sockets._

_"I know you have it…tell me where it is and you won't get hurt.", the voice rasped quietly into his ear; the breath send chills river down Soda's spine, a shiver thrilling through his sides. When he kept his silent ground, the fist gripped the gold hair tighter, putting sparking pain on his victim's head. He yanked Soda back and forth with cruelty before pulling the latter closer to the black face. The greaser's face was made of pure terror and confusion but he wanted to keep playing the game of innocence. He couldn't see the features well, but he could feel that the identity was angry and angrier by the second of silence._

_"D-Did you hear me?! Are you deaf?! Answer me!"_

_Soda blinked hard and opened his mouth to deny again. This man might as well kill him, but he had one job to do. That was-_

**_KA-BOOM!_**

_A large whoosh from the empty station had lightened Soda's head of hair on the darkened fist. He couldn't even feel the stranger's presence…or maybe he was? He wasn't sure anymore. He felt like flying. His body felt weightless, yet strange. A burning feeling had corrupted into his body, the feeling of his limbs tensing and spasming to the energy seeping under his skin. But the sensation felt numb and distant. It felt calm and drowsy, like when someone has been doing an operation on you and you can feel the pain, but it your senses abandon you._

_But the feeling didn't last._

_Before long, Soda hit the rough gravel with a THUD, feeling scraps on his sides and palms. Groaning he tried lifting his body up. His head hurt, but he couldn't tell if it was the rough landing or the explosion._

_Wait…explosion?_

_Soda ignored his aching muscles and sat up, using his cut . What he saw made him want to bawl and curl his arms and knees to chest into a shell of himself._

_The gas station was gone._

_Colors flooded back into the world, because the moment the place blown itself to pieces, a terrible fire has overtaken the remains. The building looked like a growing plant that has died in the most disturbing of ways. Rubble coated the entrance and Soda can hear electricity sparking from the lights above the aisles. Bright red and orange flames ignited the inside, reducing most of what's left of the ceiling to ash. Pipes were bent like straws and they were sticking out of the broken walls as they crumbled to the ground, holes expanding as they fell._

_Sodapop can hear his own breathing quicken; what the hell had happened? Was it…no. No, please. It couldn't be! He was positive that only him and Steve knew about it. They would check the little machine hidden in the storage room during their shifts and they would always be the ones to get something if anything was needed from the room. Nobody found out, they made sure of it!_

_With a mind at war, Soda pushed himself off the ground, despite that his legs were hurt. Of course it was from the East side marathon, but they felt like the liquid chocolate batter Darry would stir to make the ever-loving chocolate cake the gang would feast on after dinners. Liquid and weak._

_He stumbled into the DX through the crumbled hole in the wall. Some bits of the material dispersed itself and fell all over: into the flames, the dusty ground, on his head. The smoke snaked its way into Sodapop's lungs, often resulting to put a dirty palm to his mouth to capture a coughing fit while he kept on walking. He wasn't in control anymore, more like his fears were. And curiosity. He was a zombie of his former self. What damage could have been done? How did this happen? He guessed that it was the crave for answers to the questions that were intoxicating his mind and soul. He was praying nobody was inside. Nobody had gotten hurt._

_Again, luck wasn't on his side._

_He tried to avoid the large flames, causing him to stagger and zigzag through the falling concrete. His body was curving and swinging, the high temperature making him sweat to pieces, his limbs on the verge of misfunctioning right there in the destruction. But once his little parkour session passed, the view he saw wanted to make him fall on his knees again and just sob right there._

_Melted bodies were covering the floor, but it wasn't just any random group of people laying around all saggy and dead. Soda can see Steve's pale head, sprouting what was left of his swirly hair. All his hair is either disintegrated and wilting, but his features was something that Soda managed to memorize through the years. That's Steve's head…but it's not his best friend. He's all just a pile of melted flesh, blood seeping from cuts. There was nothing staying together._

_Soda could see Johnny's jean jacket._

_He could see Two-Bit's Mickey Mouse shirt._

_He could see Dally's brown leather jacket._

_He could see what's left of Ponyboy's creamy skin complexion._

_But he couldn't see Darry. Maybe he escaped? Wasn't there? Doesn't matter._

_Everyone was dead._

_Soda's tears finally overflowed, and the saltiness of them stung the scratches on his cheeks. But that pain numbed to his heart breaking and falling into nothing like the DX concrete. It was all his fault, all his fault! His friends, his brothers, his family was gone, and all because he couldn't look after some stupid engine machinery._

_That was about the lowest Soda ever felt, including his parents' death and Sandy's pregnancy._

_Something grabbed his ankles, just right then._

_Soda yelped his most unmanly yelp and looked down. A hand grabbed him, or what looked like a hand. It was all saggy with muscle and tissue. But a voice boomed to him._

_"How…h-how could you?"_

_That voice…is h-he alive? Are they?_

_"I had…a life, Sodapop. I had dreams. Now I'm dead…because of you."_

_No._

_Now Sodapop knew. That's Ponyboy. His baby brother._

_Soda shook his head furiously. Tears are now making a river on his face. "Pony, n-no. I never knew you were-"_

_"LIAR! YOU KNEW! And now you're gonna skip around breathing knowing that you have caused your brothers' deaths!" No. Soda didn't cause that. Did he?_

_Suddenly, the world had gotten even hotter to him. More somethings have taken his ankles, and if not that, his legs and wrists. His eyes slowly opened, now tears are falling from the intensity of the temperature. But everything was orange and bright. Oh god. A crack had appeared in the ground, all opened. Another figure is appearing from the crack, all melted and saggy, but dragging its melted body._

_The figure chuckled humorously, approaching him. "Y'know, I had a good future. No…a great future. But do you know who had to ruin it? You. Ponyboy was only thirteen when our parents died, so I couldn't blame him. You, on the other hand? You had to make the decision to become some lowlife high school dropout so I had to babysit you and Pony every day. If it weren't for you, I'd have my life on track. I could go to college. I could start a family. But of course not, because it was all your fault. All. Your! Fault!"_

_Darry. That was him._

_The hands left his ankles once Soda started shaking his head. No, none of that was his fault…was it?_

_The rough hands of Darry took his shins and pulled heavily, getting Soda off his feet and hitting the hard crumbly floor. Everything hurt: his body, his mind, his heart. But he couldn't think anymore, because something was dragging him. He tried to grab something, anything, but nothing held. Everything was broken._

_The dismembered bodies of the gang held him close as they yelled and cursed at Soda, injuring his soul further._

_"If you weren't my best friend, I wouldn't have landed myself with a trashy job like working at a f****ing DX as a way to spend my teenage years! But you killed me, so are you my best friend?!", shouted Steve._

_"Have our drag race sessions meant nothing to you, Sodapop? This was all your fault. You laugh way too much, more than I ever will!", sneered Two-Bit._

_"I told Ponyboy that sixteen years wasn't enough, but here you are, killing all of us! You really are that dumb, aren't you?!", hissed Johnny._

_"You are such a nobody tat you never had the guts to save us. I thought I had a family, but I guess not!", snarled Dally._

_Sodapop screamed and sobbed at the top of his lungs himself, as he tried to wiggle his way out of their grip as the floor rose above him. 'No! The explosion wasn't my fault! It's not my fault, it's not!"_

_"LIAR!", everybody yelled to him._

_"You are such a nobody, Soda! Sodapop…Soda…"_

**oooOOooo**

"Soda…Soda…Sodapop!"

He gasped as he sat up. A hand to his heart, Soda doesn't bother to stop his heart from racing. Everybody he knew and loved were slipped through his fingertips. He can feel the hot tears trailing his cheeks. But a tender slim hand touched his forearm. Soda flinched on the spot and his head turned around to his own distaste. But there he was.

His little brother Ponyboy, alive and well, looking worried and absolutely flustered.

His voice was raspy and deep, maybe showing that he had just woken up. But it was also small and sad. "Soda, are you alright? Yer sweating like no tomorrow."

Soda didn't respond. His adrenaline was too high. No…he didn't want to believe it. Wasn't his brother dead? Why was he showing all this concern? His remembered his face…his tone of voice…telling him that he had a life. He was supposed to be the one who's gonna have a good future. The one who's gonna get outta here. But in the explosion of a failed single-man task, he was gone.

Yet here he was.

The room was older, Soda noticed. Hell, everything around him was colder.

His breathing still shallow, he tried his best to put on his gang-proclaimed, girl-swooning, movie-star smile. He was aware it failed, because Pony's eyes begun getting glassy and tried to brush them away in spite of himself with the back if his hand. "I'm f-fine, Ponyboy. Why ask?"

There he was, playing dumb again.

If anything, that only made Ponyboy cry harder. He looked away, his green-grey eyes becoming a tear faucet. "You were screaming so loud. Something about how an explosion wasn't your fault. There was so much sweat…and tears…"

Soda's face paled. God…of course his brother would notice that. He might be the baby, but Lord knows he was so observant. Plus, for Pete's sake, they share a bed.

His thoughts were interrupted when a rougher and larger hand touched his shoulder. Soda flinched again and the hand instantly left his shoulder bare. His head turned around again, clearly not ready for any more surprises.

His older brother, Darry Curtis, was kneeled by the bed and his hands were up in defense, face masked with surprise.

But…Soda saw him, all angry-looking and melted. He opened up the ground…said it was all his fault. Said that if it weren't to him dropping out of school, he would actually go to college and have his life back on track. That hurt. He was the first to drag him down…followed by every gang member…they were so angry at him…

"Sodapop? Are you alright? What the hell happened?", Darry called worriedly. His hands made their way to Soda's shoulder and shook him quickly. Soda gasped and looked at his older brother and he can feel his eyes widen. He felt the hands leave again and instead clutched the bedsheets. His own heart leapt and lodge itself in his throat. Maybe that was why his breathing felt so shallow and short.

He nodded and Soda had to admit, he sounded so dumb when he stammered, "I-I'm really okay. I'm just f-fine.-"

"Like hell you are, Sodapop!", Darry shouted again, but louder. Soda blinked rapidly and Ponyboy stood with eyes wide. Darry's eyes lowered instantly, but his tone was stony. "You were screaming bloody murder and swimming in a pool of your own sweat."

Soda just stared longer. He was panting so quietly and quickly he didn't want to respond. Darry insisted that both Sodapop and Ponyboy help him get a fresh bedsheet from the closet in the hall and change the bed. "I'll add it to the laundry when I get home from work.", he added, closing the closet door behind him.

Once the sheets were placed and the covers were hiding both brothers to their necks, Darry walked back into the room, holding what was a glass of water and a tiny piece of chocolate. He held them out to the middle Curtis brother. "Here," he said lightly, "Eat some of this. It should calm you down for a while. And drink the water; then, you're gonna head back to bed."

Soda was wide awake, but he didn't have enough energy to argue with him. Maybe it was the freshness of the new sheets, halting all his inner adrenaline so they wouldn't get the best of him. It worked. With no word and a shaking hand, Soda sat up into a sitting position and drank half the water and ate a bit of chocolate. Which was nice, he'll call it that.

Darry left the room, and everything went dark again. With a deep sigh, Soda flopped back on the soft bed. But his own paranoia stayed with him, because he didn't feel accustomed to slumber until two hours later.

**oooOOooo**

The tired feeling the greaser had when he woke up stayed with Sodapop all morning.

His eyelids were droopy, and he couldn't stay awake long enough without resisting an urge to lay his head down on either his hand or some other surface to relax. Hell, he fell asleep on his own breakfast, and he wouldn't have woken up if it weren't for him inhaling grape jelly and parts of his eggs up his nose. The smell of eggs and burning feeling of the jelly in his nostrils remained for a while, but it bothered him none. He chose the choice to ignore it.

Throughout his shifts, he didn't have to feel awake to acknowledge the strange looks everyone was giving him when he greeted them. Everything was slower to him. He can't process anything right, and judging by the looks given by his dear friend, this was a problem needed to be tackled.

"Soda, buddy? You doing okay?", Steve questioned, closing the storage room behind him. The magenta glow faded away and the door was shut with a low thud.

Sodapop tapped his fingers wearily against the wooden desk. He was long past his time to be shocked at Steve's existence. He already was accustomed to the greaser when he came by the Curtis house to pic him up, and he did point it out to Soda about having jelly and eggs all over his face. He was worried then and he was worried now.

Soda hummed in response, feeling Steve stroll over and sit down next to him, where Steve spoke, "You sure, Soda? You look as though you spent all night running through the mill. You're pale and can't stay awake long enough to give folks a proper greeting."

Soda shook his head and rubbed his eyes for about the ninth time that day. He turned his body towards him, inhaling deeply.

"Steve, I'm alright. I meant what I said about protecting the…", he waved his hand in a circular motion. He wasn't having any satisfaction in having anyone find out now in their private conversation. "You know. I know the outcomes. I know what's coming with the job."

Steve exhaled sharply, eyes pinching so tight his head begun to hurt. "But you shouldn't do this job if it's going to interfere with your personal health. You need to relax. You need to get your mind off it so you can eat, sleep, and live life properly." He wasn't wrong. Soda can decline all he wanted, but he wanted to go on with his job and home life the way he was, not with a nuclear engine core on his conscious.

Did Steve have this burden? To carry the weight of the fact that a world-threatening engine in hiding at a storage room in a gas station? That they only knew about? Sodapop guessed not, considering that his best friend is now the voice of reason to keep his head on track.

"Alright. How so?", Soda sighed deeply, resting his cheek on his fist.

"A drag race. Or a movie, maybe. We can hit one after work. But you're gonna take a nap first, you know…?"

Steve was a bit too late on that last sentence, though, because the moment Soda heard "nap", he was out like a light.

**oooOOooo**

**Hello! I am such a sight for sore eyes.**

**Once again, I am soooooo sorry for the long wait! But I had _big _tests, and since I have a lot of projects and a finals exam that might need my full attention, I'm just gonna push myself to finish this chapter for you all, because you are such amazing reviewers! I apologize if this chapter was a bit boring or OOC. I was really jazzed. T_T**

**But enough about my stupid excuses. Let's answer some reviews! ;) :**

**Anonymous: Really? You've been waiting for a story like this? O_O Now I'm even more motivated to pick this up. Thank you for you excitement. I will definitely try to finish, and stay for the ride, sucker! ;P**

**Guest: Yeeeeeeesssss I am a monster but here is a chapter so enjoy!**

**DailyFeather: Thank you! Updates are on your way!**

**soraxtsuna123: You bet our grease it is! I love foreshadowing myself, so knowing that you appreciate this makes me so happy! I hope you enjoy my future plans. I know I have been enjoying yours! Thank you for reading! X)**

**akiogirl123: You'll see. Thank you so much! Updates are coming!**

**I've started chapter four already, so stuck around cause the ride's just starting! Summer's coming soon, so I will have time to get future chapters written and published. Until then, thank you, and see you next time. Stay gold! XD**

**-Deximon**


	4. Chapter 4: Confronted at a Drag Race

The first thing Soda did when he came home from work was take a nap. Just like Steve had told him.

And it wasn't like the snips of sleep he had during his DX shifts. It was a long nap, just him kicking his work shoes off, slumping face-first into the couch, and snoring loudly the second his feet made contact with the familiar floor of his own home.

Ponyboy, Johnny, and Two-Bit were home from school before the duo was let out from work, so they held perplexed looks when Soda had his instant session. Two-Bit was watching Mickey Mouse and eating chocolate cake on the floor while Pony was helping Johnny with his homework.

Two-Bit was the first to speak once Soda let out the loudest snore known to man. "Wow, Stevie, what's going on with Sodapop over there? He looks like he ran a whole bunch 'round the mill.", he asked, mouth full of cake, crumbs collapsing from his mouth and icing oozing on the corners from his lips.

Steve, whose lip curled a bit from the lousy nickname Two-Bit gave him, was nearly about to respond when Ponyboy's chair creaked loudly from the kitchen. He wandered over towards the living room, and poked his head in, where he saw Soda's sleeping body. His soft features showed deep concern as he turned his head to Steve. "What happened to Soda?"

Steve exhaled deeply and crossed his arms, walking into the kitchen. "He was just really tired all day. That's all. But it's really none of your business, kid."

Ponyboy followed him in and Steve smirked at the little growl from the teen. Steve had to give him one, of course the kid will be concerned about his brother. But it really wasn't his business. What was he supposed to say? That his older brother has been worrying himself silly by some piece of machinery some stranger asked them to protect? That only _they_ knew about?

Ponyboy leaned to Johnny as Steve opened the refrigerator door. "Hey, Two-Bit. You better tell me that there's still cake or I will use your hide to decorate my home!"

"Of course there's still cake, Stevie. You really think I'd do something like that?"

"Yes, you would! And quit calling me Stevie!"

"Sure, Steve-O!"

With a growl, Steve slammed the door and dashed to the living room and caught the Mickey Mouse lover in a headlock, leaving Two-Bit's hands grabbing Steve's arms at a desperate attempt for air, not doing that good of a job from the surprise attack coming from him.

"Holler uncle," Steve hissed.

"Never!"

"Hey, y'all. What's with the ruckus?", a voice interrupted. The two struggling greasers on the floor looked up suddenly.

"Hey, Dal!"

Dally grinned in his roguish amusement and wandered into the kitchen, where he nodded at Ponyboy and ruffled Johnny's jet black head of hair. Steve, letting Two-Bit go with a glare towards him, followed the hood into the kitchen, where he was drinking a bottle of beer.

"What happened with Soda? He managed to sleep through what you two clowns were doing while I couldn't stand Two-Bit's loudness from Buck's place.", Dally questioned.

Steve rolled his eyes hard as he took out a knife from the drawer_. Seriously, why's everyone asking about Soda?_

"The kid's just been tired all day. That's all there is to it."

Dallas scoffed, playing with the ring on the table. "No need to get all defensive, Randle. We ain't threatening the middle Curtis or anything. The problem is that he's been more on edge than he has ever been for a while. It's unsettling."

Steve numbly placed his slice if cake on the table. _Shit_, he thought. _He's more on edge about that engine thing than I thought, if someone like Dally would be willing to notice._

Soda needs that drag race.

Just the two of them.

Steve cleared his throat suddenly. "Well, if y'all don't mind, me and Soda are heading off to a drag race once he wakes up.", he announced, strutting across the room. He sat down in the only available seat at the table and flashed a look towards the youngest Curtis. This was their own burden to carry, meaning that this trip should be theirs and theirs alone.

Not the tagalong. Not the gang.

But Two-Bit had to speak up. "Ooh! A drag race, you say? Can I come?", he grinned, tossing the plate into the sink once he bounded himself loudly into the kitchen. Ponyboy flashed him a dirty look.

"Don't toss the dang thing in! You break it, you're cleaning it!"

Two-Bit stuck out his tongue in return, his Will Rogers-like grin splitting mischievously across his face.

Steve shook his head. "Not happening, Keith. Only me and Soda are gonna go. I can only afford the sleepyhead without having to carry the rest of you home."

Two-Bit's face fell and Steve felt almost guilty. Almost.

A stir came from the living room, and Steve suddenly felt very fascinated by that. Damn, the noise finally woke him up. Slowly, Sodapop waddled in, rubbing his whiskey-colored tiresome eyes. He looked at all the greasers in the room.

"Hey what's all the noise?"

Two-Bit quickly came to his side. " Sorry to wake you, Soda, but I'm just insulted that _somebody_ wouldn't let us go a certain drag race happening tonight." Two-Bit crossed his arms and sent raised brows towards Steve, who returned the look with the evil eyes.

Sodapop looked at Steve, who dropped the look as quickly as he gained it; he gave a look as one parent would give a child when he would not include his friend in a game of tag.

"Steve, don't get all touchy about this issue. I think we should all go. Not only will we get to see the race, but it's also gonna be a good relief from all the stress."

Johnny, who stayed so quiet between the whole exchange the moment the friends came home, looked Soda's way. "Are you okay, Sodapop? What kind of stress is it?", he asked, twiddling his pencil with his fingers.

Soda's eyes blinked quickly and Steve didn't miss the unfamiliar emotion go through his eyes. He felt a rising sense of unease rise in his chest. Soda needed this break. They've been hiding this for about almost two weeks, and apparently nobody missed the dark strain his buddy was going through. He preferred the two of them to go alone, the gang could distract him from all this oncoming pressure.

So if the gang would help by bringing them along, so be it.

"Just a lot of work stuff, Johnnycakes. And if Darry's alright with it, we could let you two come as well."

Johnny's black eyes gleamed and Pony looked Steve's way. Who the hell was he to stand in the way? In response, Steve sighed and gave a shrug.

"Alright let's let Darry know."

**oooOOooo**

_A drag race is where you all are going?_, Darry asked from the phone.

"Yep," Soda replied, looking back at the expecting group of eyes in the kitchen, obviously trying to hear the conversation from the kitchen.

Darry was quiet for a moment. Finally, he said tiredly, "_Ponyboy can go, since it's Friday and it ain't a school night for him. Johnny is more than welcome to go with you if he wants, and Two-Bit and Dal can go if they're willing as well."_

Soda felt a smile creep on his face as he turned towards the gang. He nodded and their faces lit up. Looks like they were all going! And for Sodapop, that was good. As much as he enjoyed Steve's company at these outings, he'd rather prefer to bring the gang along for this case. It'd be a better relief, at least for him. With the gang around, it'll be harder to talk about the engine around them, and he's okay with that. It's better to not talk about it.

It's better. No stress about it.

"Wait. You gonna come, Dar?"

Darry sighed, but Soda knew that was going to happen. When did Darry have time to do anything anymore? It wasn't supposed to be an insult; it's just the way things have been since the Curtis parents died. Always working so hard to provide, because he doesn't know where to start when it came to two grown teenagers.

Still, it would've been nice if the oldest could come along.

"_I'm working late today. My boss is gonna leave us here for a while. But y'all are going to the 8:00 race, right?"_

"Yep."

"_I'll try to finish quickly and I could maybe meet you guys there. We might use another car maybe, better than one ride."_

"Works for us."

_"Don't stay out too late though. I'm not risking sending the fuzz after you and getting y'all thrown into a boy's home."_

_"_Yessir!", he replied, saluted on the other line, like that old general army game the brothers used to play as kids. Of course their dad would play with them too as the general and Darry would be their sergeant, but they obeyed with the same exact respect.

From that moment of nostalgia, Darry chuckled over the phone. _"See you guys later, little buddy."_

**oooOOooo**

Let Steve just say, the race was just what Soda needed.

The ear-splitting roar of the engines made the teen grin and giggle as he squirmed in his seat. The smile never left his face once. In fact, Steve lost count of the times Soda stood up from his seat screaming his heart out cheering.

As would apply to most people, it would cause a few to turn and watch, but to Soda, it didn't matter. And if it didn't matter to Soda, it didn't matter to Steve. And besides, if some would be willing to pick a fight if he was being too loud, Steve would arrive and beat them so hard their children wouldn't stand the embarrassment.

Ponyboy was sitting next to Soda reading a book, but he would occasionally look up at the race once Soda would cheer. Whether it was because the sudden loudness of his happy-go-lucky nature that made him flinch or the polite proper façade to put on to make him appear as interested as he is, Steve might never know.

Johnny was sitting with Dally not too far from where Ponyboy sat reading. Dally always found pleasure in criticizing the racers whenever he came to races and that night was no different. Whichever car would pass by, Dally would make a certain face and lean towards Johnny to whisper. Johnny always reflected that face and would reply to Dally, leaving the duo to just talk about racers. It was a simple conversation between the two, and it was a good way for them to be and let be.

Two-Bit was just as excited about the race as Soda.

He sat next to Steve, so it left him to become a human sandwich in between the loudest and most enthusiastic members of the gang. He was always in the risk of deafness whenever the two would stand and screech and cheer.

But the engine was seemingly far away from Soda's mind, so he couldn't complain.

For the rest of the night, Steve smirked and enjoyed the race, because he was going to savor this sweet moment before walking out and Soda would slowly give in to his nerves again.

**oooOOooo**

Darry managed to catch the gang as they walked way from the racing arena.

His truck parked out front, Steve watched as the oldest Curtis brother ran across the street to reach them. He was still dressed in his clothes from work, so surely he must've rushed straight here. Was it to catch the race and watch it with the gang? Steve wasn't sure. But could it? The whole gang haven't been out together on a relaxing night out in a long time, excluding rumbles against the Socs, or course.

But still.

"Did the race finish?", Darry panted, bending over and resting his hands on his hips as he started to catch his breath. His face was only getting a tad shiny and his cheeks were a light pink.

Steve just was going to respond when a swift movement behind Darry caught his eye.

Peering from the tall lean built figure, Steve squinted his eyes for better vision and he locked eye contact with suspiciously distinguished-looking gentleman.

He was as tall as Darry, and as fit too. His chest was well built with arms as long as two-pane windows and biceps like sturdy tree trunks. He had pale white skin and wore all black; black T-shirt, black pants, black shoes. All business. His features were glazed and hard: hazel eyes like stone, a pointed chin, angled-down light brown eyebrows, and bright red hair that fell in sweaty clamps across his forehead.

The two locked eyes for a long time; Steve's tongue licked his lips in a musky, I-can-kill-you manner whilst the strange shadowy looking broad-shouldered man eye's twitched and his teeth gritted together.

Steve felt it right then. That familiar feeling he had with him. That Jake McAllister person who gave them the core in the first place.

Instant distrust and pure suspicion.

Yeah. That familiar feeling.

Just then, the redhead made his way over, fingers flinching quickly as he strolled, which was stiff and business-like, and it bugged Steve something awful.

"Let me ask you something," the redhead declared, standing smack in front of Steve, who was about a head shorter than the latter. (He was described as being as tall as Darry, right?)

Darry walked in at that moment, though, glaring at the man eye-to-eye. "And who might I ask, are you?", he asked in a tough voice, like the one he would use when a Soc would challenge him at rumbles. The one he would use when Darry was sure he would have the upper hand.

The man only smirked and used the back of his hand to move Darry to the side, which he did, but stayed close to him, blue-green icy eyes burning through him, but had no effect.

"Right. A proper introduction. That's what everybody asked They know me as Damien Shawn, and I come from the Facility of Mechanical Arts and Programing. I'm here because I'm looking for someone."

Johnny moved closer to Ponyboy, who were both looking at the man completely confused and scared. Their eyes were wide and their bodies seemed stiff. "Who are you looking for?", Johnny asked softly. Damien's smirk stayed and his hazel eyes switched from Steve to the black haired greaser.

"Dr. Jake McAllister."

Just then, Steve couldn't breathe properly.

"He has taken away an item that rightfully belongs to our director. The traitor ran off and we have to take precaution to search everywhere. We are hoping to find the engine and retrieve it back to the facility in high hopes that we use it to win the war at Vietnam for our children, our wives, our brothers, our troops, and for our country most importantly."

These were the men Mr. McAllister was talking about. A bunch of men talking about an engine used for the good of America. Shit. Shit. _Shit_.

They had only one job. He hated McAllister, but he was going to fulfill the task for Sodapop. Steve would not let his best friend undergo all this stress for nothing if it was found.

Inhaling and exhaling as quietly as possible, Steve switched his stare to Soda, who was as pale as a ghost. Hell, he looked like he saw one.

Unfortunately, Damien caught notice. His squinted at Soda, who tried to regain his posture. Moving slowly, his hands behind his back, Damien hissed slowly and quietly to him, so silent they couldn't hear a thing. Soda only replied back audiobly, "N-No. We've never heard of him. We would've told if we heard of him."

_Great. Soda's got the doctor's stutter. We definitely get in the deep shit now._

Damien's smirk has fallen and a snarl replaced it quickly. Steve wanted so badly to intervene; the man had the look to kill, and Soda could've been dead if that were the true case. With that being said, he leaned close and hissed again in Soda's ear and Sodapop's eyes instantly got wide.

Next thing Steve knew, his arm was caught and the two were running towards Steve's truck.

"Soda, what's-"

"We gotta get to the gas station! NOW!"

**oooOOooo**

The greasy boys ran off like the wind and Damien felt a smile creep onto his face. Looks like they knew about the engine after all. That quick chest rise and fall and pale face was a dead giveaway from those two boys. The issue made him want to laugh for the record. McAllister giving his best achievement to two amateur kids?

Hilarious. And smart too.

Too bad they weren't good actors.

A group of feet stomped across the pavement and the sound was replaced by gasps and pants.

"Sir, no luck. We looked everywhere."

Damien turned and three others were looking distressed. Wait till they heard the news!

"No need to search more, men. We found something better: the engine core."

Just as he expected, their faces gleamed with wonder. But one's fell into puzzlement. "What about Jake?"

Damien rolled his eyes. Who in the world was going to need that silent fear-stricken fool anymore? "Forget about him. I want you to follow those boys, and fetch me their core. Let them surrender it.", he barked, turning on his heel.

"Uh, sir? Where are you going?"

Damien turned his head. "To talk to the director, men. Now go."

**oooOOooo**

**AND DONE! Boom! Okay, now the story will finally pick up! Next stop on the Radiated express: Superpower City. A WHAT WHAT!**

**But for the record, this felt a little rushed to me, since I would like to spend the summer working on the chapters focusing on the gang's powers, and once again, I apologize their they were OOC. (Really got to stop doing that.)**

**But screw it. It's done. Now let's answer some reviews, shall we:**

**Guest: Thank you! I guess I just found it boring because I read it so many times since I was the one that wrote it. But thank you though!**

**DailyFeather: Oh, you don't know how relived I feel when you say the characters were accurate. Thank you, that made me feel more relaxed!**

**soraxtsuna123: I luv the brotherly love between the Curtis' and I want to highlight more Stevie moments. People address him as a hard-headed jerk, but why would Soda like a guy who is a jerk? He just couldn't let his pride go. Plus, I gave you chills? You? O.o Okay, I must be doing good. Thx for reading!**

**HubLuv: Yep! I have no idea where that came from. Maybe just off the top of my head. But I'm glad I gave you some of the willies.**

**Thank you so much for tuning in, but I have to go now. Enjoy your summer, and I'll see you next time! ;D**

**-Deximon**


	5. Chapter 5: Gas Station Standoff

He was passing every speed limit.

He was driving so reckless.

He didn't give a f***.

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!

It was all his fault, all his fault! They had the goddamn thing for almost _two weeks_ and just within that amount of time they f***ed up. How did they do this? How _could_ they do this? He was sure they were careful. But…

How did that Damien guy know?

Soda's head begun to pound, and it wasn't just from his driving. His thoughts were echoing. Coming out here was a mistake…nothing but a reckless mistake! If they hadn't come, Damien wouldn't have seen them out in broad daylight stressing themselves shitless about the engine. They all could just have a quiet evening and just redo the routine so naturally: wake up, go to work, take turns checking the core, go home, repeat.

Simple.

But as Soda fiercely turned a corner, he thought for a moment.

He volunteered to look after the magenta core, and for nothing other than the fact that Soda expected the physicist to have a good world-threatening life-or-death reason for hiding the thing.

He didn't carry regrets.

Doubts, yes. But no regrets.

And this night felt nice for a change. Because the moment the roars of the car engines boomed across the ears of everybody sitting with expectant eyes, Soda felt the worries melt away. He felt awake, and so alive. Just like how he was: happy-go-lucky and grinning! He haven't felt that good and carefree in almost two weeks!

But once Damien entered the picture, the anchor of his thoughts returned to slap him right across the face.

Sodapop averted his head to see his best friend, who was clutching the dashboard so hard that not only were his knuckles turning white as a sheet, but his face was green and his facial features displayed all confused and frantic and worrisome beyond compare.

Soda sighed; Steve didn't say a word to him since they retreated from the station and Soda snapped at him that they had to drive at top speed to the DX. He doubted that Steve had to, for things seemed pretty downhill if Damien had broke into his head and announced his fear. That horrid fear, the nightmare he kept thrashing and shouting without any end…

But Steve had to know. This was his burden too.

Right? Despite his stability?

"Steve? Would you like to know what he said?"

Steve turned, bewildered. He seemed to lost in the twisting blurry road ahead of him that he didn't seem to have noticed. His hazel eyes were wide, and his brows were furrowed.

Soda didn't hear a response from him; he didn't hear any question for a clarification on his previous statement, and frankly, Soda was glad. He didn't want to say his name, for it'll make it harder to ignore the callous face he made once the gold-haired teen denied harshly on the knowledge of the scientist.

"He told me that they found it."

Steve looked like his jaw would touch the floor any moment.

"W-What? What did he say?"

Soda felt his knuckles numb as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He knew Steve would ask that question. Damn.

Soda tried to focus on the road and started slowly, "Well, that Damien guy came up to me first, and started asking me about Jake."

Steve's hands left the dashboard and begun to twitch in his lap. "And we heard you sayin' that you had not a shitting idea where and who he was."

"Exactly."

"So what happened after?"

"He looked real mad, Stevie. Really mad. Hell, he reminded me of Darry a bit, that's how mad he was," Soda mumbled, although sure Steve heard it just by the way his fingers curled onto the palm of his hand.

He wanted what happened, right?

Well, it was time to give it.

"He told me that the jig was up. He said that I didn't have to play with shit in his face like that, because they found it. They just had to find those yahoos who had the guts to take care of such an object before taking it first." There. He was finished. He couldn't hear anything else from him because he was running towards their Ford.

Steve's face immidiantly lost its soft-toned and frantic façade. Instead it hardened, hardened into its regular expression: reckless, wild, and ready to bust out some teeth.

He took his curled-up fists and jammed them hard on the dashboard, Soda jumping and scared for his life that he could've broken the damn thing. Luckily for both, he didn't, but he seemed like he was about to…

"How…That goddamn bitch!", Steve cursed, scrapping his nails on the material. His teeth were close to breaking and his ears were crimson red. Was he talking about that guard, or Jake?

If anything, Soda drove faster.

Because if they cannot get this core and take someplace else, there will be hell to pay in Steve's eyes.

**oooOOooo**

"C'mon, Soda. Hurry up!"

Soda fumbled with the keys in his sweaty clamped hands. The plan was simple: open the DX, break in unnoticed, grab the core, and throw it into that river that stayed not to far away. Easy.

Until it wasn't. Because the moment Soda turned the knob with the key inserted into its hole: the familiar screeching of tires came this way. Shit. He forgot that they came with him to that drag race! And with Damien going on about that core…aww shit. They have got to have questions!

But Steve shoved him in, nearly causing Soda himself to trip on the tiled floor. He regain his posture and balance, thank God, and the two rushed over to the storage room, where their biggest task lied.

He saw an assuring nod come from his best buddy, and the butterflies in Soda's stomach begun fluttering their wings faster, so fast Soda felt like throwing up before he could see the core completely. Not like he wanted to though. Soon, he won't have to see it again.

"Sodapop Patrick Curtis!"

Oh no. That was Darry's.

Oh shit.

Oh shit!

The gang had caught them red-handed. And the door was open just a crack, streaming in only a tad of magenta.

Soda glanced at Steve who took in a breath, indicating that they both might not escape tonight alive, engine core or not. Soda's butterflies didn't ease a bit, not as he left to face the gang, moving his eyes at the door to the swirly-haired greaser, showing that he had to finish the job.

Soda felt a pang in his stomach. What could he say? How could he say it? _Oh hello, everyone! See, me and Stevie here have been recruited by some facility scientist and I've been stressing day and night with Steve her as my rock. And that's what you missed for the last two weeks!_

Not happening.

But he appeared to have more time, for both himself and Steve to smuggle the thing under their noses, because he faced Darry, who had a flabbergasted face, Dallas, who looked like he wanted to snap some throats for having them out on a wild goose chase in the middle of the night, and Ponyboy and Johnny, who looked very taken aback.

Darry spoke first. "Sodapop, what the hell was all that? What happened back there?"

Soda can feel the irritation and worry dripping out of his mouth, but he almost heard a voice grunt from behind him.

No, the _voices_ shouted from _beside_ him.

"Don't move a muscle!"

Next thing Soda knew, his arms were high in the air, far from his sides and far from any weaponry will save him. At least five men have arrived with guns and scowls with them, business dressing their eyes. They were dressed just like Damien: black t-shirt, black pants, black shoes, and well-built bodies that could take someone down in a pummel if challenged. They didn't want to be reckoned with.

One held his weapon up to Soda's forehead and Soda swore that he heard a yelp. He believed it could be Pony's, but at the same time, he remembered letting out some unmanly yell in his dream. The dream that led them all to this position. The dream that made everything seem so vaguely familiar…

"Where is it? We know you have it!", the man with the gun on his forehead grunted.

His brothers looked his way, expectantly. "Soda…what's he talking about?", Darry asked, keeping his voice low and steady. It was major contrast to Ponyboy, whose face wa so pale he could easily be passed of as a ghost if asked.

Soda shook his head. _No…play dumb. Play dumb, and they should pass you off._

"I don't know sir. I thought you found it. I don't have your-"

"LIAR! Where is it? Tell me or they will _all _go down!"

Soda felt sweat and his breathing quickened. His nightmare…it came true! They will die, and for what? The engine slipping through his fingertips, that's what!

Dally held up his heater in return, and his blue eyes looked ready to shoot. "You heard him. He ain't seen nothing as to whatever you're looking for. But you tell us, because we deserve to know. Is it that scientist again? Because we sure haven't seen him.", he growled, Johnny standing close, eyes shut and scared-looking.

_I do, _Sodapop thought sadly, _I know him, and it costed me my friends._

"Hey! Isn't there supposed to be seven of you? I see only six!", one gunman called out.

The man was right; Dallas and Johnny were together, and so were Darry, Ponyboy, and Soda himself. Two-Bit was with another gunman near the entrance of the gas station, having a staring contest as it seemed, but Soda could see Two's fingers ghosting around his precious ten-inch blade.

Oh shit.

_Steve._

"Hey! What're you doing with that!"

Then every head faced Steve Randle, looking as fierce as always, with the silver and shiny gun pointed _directly _at the core. Soda swore they forgot the damn thing, but Steve…Steve seemed to have remembered it in case something had happened. Soda smiled.

_Clever boy. Following doctor's orders._

Steve glared around the room, his hand carrying the gun remaining like a rock. "You release my friends now, you bastards, or I swear I will shoot this thing to sand.", he threatened.

Darry's blue-green eyes stared intensely at the greaser with the weapon and the machine, almost like he was trying to understand the puzzle. "Steve, what is that? What're you-"

"Shut your trap, or I will blow your brains on the ceiling!"

The threat from the lead gunman shut up Darry, only sending him the coldest stare he could master. More cold than a stressed-out Darry when Ponyboy came home too late.

The man faced Steve again, the two evil stares going eye to eye, like a sheriff and a bandit at a bar for the last bottle of heavy whiskey in an old Western town. Steve's eyes narrowed so dramatically, and the man's knuckles cracked at he tightened his grip on the gun. Everyone else's breaths were sucked in. The station was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Finally, the man snarled, "You wouldn't dare damage the damn thing."

Steve smirked and shook his shoulders, seemingly preparing for the worst, which in this case is death.

"Watch me."

A gunshot ran out, along with a scream of refusal, and everything became a blur.

Just like that, a familiar whoosh trashed through the inside of the DX, making Soda's body so weightless, so free. But a burning feeling pierced his skin, making him feel like his skin was peeling off his bones. His limbs and muscles were stuck to his own will, but they were tense, causing him to spasm as the strange hot air came in and violated his body, feeling as though hot sauce were running in his veins. It was distant, and drowsy.

_Now my nightmare's real._

He fell hard with a _**THUD **_and nothing felt right to him.

Soda had no strength to open his eyes, no urge anymore to check if all the dead bodies were okay. All he knew was that death was coming, and it would be all his fault.

But he had no energy to feel ashamed.

All he could do was hear the sirens grow every distant as the darkness consumed him finally.

**oooOOooo**

**And…that's a wrap! Great job everybody! That was awesome!**

**Now the superpowers can start rolling in! I won't spoil anything, just the fact that the gang (minus the gunmen, because those dudes are definitely dead) will wake up in the hospital with them wondering hw the hell they are alive and with weird things happening to them! Good stuff. :-)**

**Since I have a major swimming competition coming up, I wanted to get this done ASAP. So let us get to the reviews:**

**Guest: MWA HA HA HA HA…THE MYSTERY!**

**animefreak5355: It sure felt real to me! Or, at least as real as it can be when you are causing these precious bois more pain than they already are. *laughing then sobbing* You stay gold yourself! ;3**

**soraxtsuna123: Yep. These cliffhangers suck. But they make good hookers. It's a good way of keeping the viewers tuned. I enjoy your stories plenty also! Thank you so much, and stay gold! 3**

**See y'all next time!**

**-Deximon**


	6. Chapter 6: Hospital Frenzy (Pt 1)

…_Holy shit!_

_What the hell…_

_That explosion was sure something…_

…_a room, he's breathing!_

_This just in, our morning news. It was only two nights ago when a DX gas station in downtown Tulsa has been blown up. Investigators and police have found a few guns still loaded and unfazed from the explosion, but only seven boys seemed to have survived. These boys have been identified as Darryl, Sodapop, and Ponyboy Curtis, Dallas Winston, Steven Randle, Johnathan Cade, and Keith Mathews. These boys have been enlisted in the hospital for observation while the cause of the explosion remains unknown._

And it was with the static of the radio that caused Johnny Cade to wake up.

Of course, it was that and an aching pain in his sides and back. But his back have been known to hurt for a while, considering that church fire a while back, but this felt completely besides the point.

Johnny fluttered his eyes open, seeing darkness and light over and over again. His train of thought was slowly awakening as he finally made the choice to try and sit up. There was something down and quite comfortable that his body managed to be resting on. And it felt nice.

With a groan from his mouth, Johnny propped himself on one elbow, the other hand rubbing his eyes to brush away the sleep and exhaustion. He looked around the little room, greeted with white. But then puzzlement was swept over him. Why did this place feel so familiar for him?

The bed was clean, with stainless sheets dressing it along with painted walls delicately and perfectly blinding pale. Looming his eyes over to the side, he saw two little purple flowers in a vase, and Johnny never had to turn to hear commotion in the hallways, the footsteps of doctors and nurses.

The hospital.

Holy shit, he was in a hospital.

Johnny pushed his body weight off his elbow and stood up completely in his bed. His breathing quickened and he shut his eyes. He remembered it. The radio was still talking and he just now realized what the subject was!

_We were almost killed. A-And then Steve had a gun…and he was pointing it at some engine thing…_

That night…the radio said that it was two nights ago. Was he asleep for two days? He could still remember the details, all of them, all rushing in against his own will.

The drag race.

Being confronted by that masculine black-clothed man.

All those men with loaded guns in the gas station.

Steve pointing a weapon of his own at that engine.

Steve pulling the trigger.

Johnny seemed to have recall not having most memories of what happened after Steve allowed his gun to fire. Only the feeling of distance. Just the matter of how he felt a presence seep into his veins and he welcomed it. How he as feeling so light on air until hitting the ground hard.

But why…why was he alive? That wasn't like anything he ever felt. He had been in a fire, the scorching feeling of himself of hell on Earth. The pain of his broken spine, of the injuries of the on his peeling skin at the time. What was he doing in the hospital if he was dead? Wait, he is dead, right? Johnny snapped his eyes open and put his hands in front of him. Other than the bandaged forearms that he remembered were burns, they looked pretty okay.

He looked down at his body, to see he had on a hospital gown, but under that was his skin just fine.

Maybe a little darker and more tan than he is, but other than that, he felt nice.

He felt normal.

He felt alive.

What happened, though?

Why did Steve feel so much toward the thing as to endanger everyone inside and to end up causing the thing to explode?

Wait.

_Steve._

_Sodapop._

_The gang._

Were they okay?

The radio was still playing, already having the subject changed and onto the weather, but were they in the same condition as he was? Just fine and alive? The reporter said that they all survived, and they had no idea, hell he had no idea! But were they gonna be the same?

Were they gonna still be as normal as they appeared to be?

If they appeared to be?

Swiftly, Johnny threw the covers off his body and landed on his feet dizzily. He stumbled over to the wall, two hands to support his weight again. Damn, the motion felt too fast for him. He couldn't stand up straight. Sleeping for two days must do that to you, he guessed.

He slowly begun to stroll away from his room until a voice called out to him.

"Hey! Why aren't you in your room resting?"

Johnny winced. He had a good idea of what that feminine, peppy, I-know-what's-good-for-you voice sounded like. And he was mentally proven right the moment he turned around and faced with a tall and slim brunette nurse, dressed in her white dress and heels and slowly approaching him with a wonderous and careful look, almost as though approaching an animal.

Johnny swallowed. He should've checked for them or doctors or any other members of staff. With his hands still glued to the wall, he took a step back as she took a step forward. Her eyes were slow and patient and she smiled suddenly.

"Aw, don't worry. I'm not gonna hurt you. I just would like to take you back to bed for check-up."

She's sweet. Johnny appreciated that But he wanted to check something else of his own.

But he can feel his ears burning and the perspiration running down his back as he heard the whispers. The stares of patients in stretchers and doctors and other hospital members cup their mouths and continue on their way. Something about the "gas station explosion survivors". How it was a miracle they weren't dead.

But they didn't stop to examine him. They didn't stop to feed him questions, or stop to grab him and thrust him back into his room. They kept walking, and they kept whispering. Johnny wasn't a big fan of the minor attention, so he took back another step.

"Please…I wanted to go see my friends.", he claimed softly. God, he hated at how weak he sounded.

The nurse's eyes blinked quickly, and Johnny swore to himself that she held some puzzlement and sadness in them. But they disappeared as quickly as they had come, now replaced with stable reassurance. What did that mean? Were they okay?

The nurse's steps were quicker now, approaching him faster than he could muster and escape from. "They're fine, don't worry! They're asleep. And alive. You just have to rest now, we don't know what-"

"Please, let me see them.", Johnny protested, still quiet, but firmer than his last request.

He couldn't hear the response, for his bare foot tripped and he was sent tumbling.

The trip down was a lot quicker than he thought, and the worst part was, he landed flat on his back. It wasn't the best feeling in the world, hell it hurt like a bitch!

He spent way too much time around Dally. Because he rarely curses for one.

The pain shot through his rear mid-region and Johnny couldn't move. He felt stuck to the white linoleum-tiled floor. But what was stranger was another burning sensation. A tingle that shot through his skin and the numb feeling in his organs and bones. It was fast and indescribable, but it felt right and just.

Something Johnny never felt. So quick and so sudden and it felt okay.

Like it was part of him.

"Oh my god!"

"What the hell?"

But Johnny was snapped out of his trance the moment he heard the shouts from the nurse and a few doctors. They seemed to be looking at him. Well, it didn't seem to be right _at _him actually. More like at his spot. Where he sat helplessly. Were they gonna help him up? Johnny thought that they had seen worse than a boy who fell down on his back. But this staff was wide-eyed and their faces were twisted with confusion and fright.

The nurse stood and looked around, occasionally peering her head across the floor. "Umm, excuse me? Where do you go?"

_What? Is she okay?_

Johnny peered at her with a face. It was the same face Darry made when Two-Bit has done something stupid when a task he did was so simple: completely confused and irritated.

"I'm right here.", he called, lifting a hand.

Wait.

Where was his hand?

The nurse turned her head fast in every direction possible and hissed something to the doctor still in the hallway, but Johnny tuned out their conversation; instead, Johnny felt his breath hitch in his throat. It was in front of his face, right? It was attached to his body, right? He could feel his fingers wiggling, because he was sure he commanded them too! And how could he do that if it wasn't there?

But Johnny looked at his hands, bringing them out. Nothing.

There was nothing.

Only the lights from the ceiling.

Johnny managed to get on his feet, or what he thought his feet were. He felt his body collapse against the wall again, and his knees were on the verge on buckling on him.

_Why can't I see my own body? Is that what she meant by asking where I have gone? What…_

Questions begun to flood his mind, but he paid them no matter. Instead, Johnny, still leaning against the wall, begun shimming away. Nobody could literally see him, right? This is easier. He could go find the gang, and absolutely nobody could notice.

Maybe they could help him understand what happened to him. Hey, maybe Steve could explain what happened the other night.

With a head full to bursting, Johnny walked slowly away, checking the floor, yet still seeing that: the floor.

**oooOOooo**

With a sudden yelp, Steve sat up straight in his bed panting.

His eyes bustled around the room, finding himself in a snowy white room in a hazy atmosphere with the stainless sheets covering his body from the torso down.

Shit.

He was in a hospital.

_Holy shit!_

In that instant, everything came back to him. Every memory of what had happened.

McAllister. Sodapop's tiredness. The drag race. Damien. The mob of men. The engine core. Him holding the gun and shooting it. The feeling of all the energy overwhelming him and being too much for his body.

Steve just then felt panic rising in his gut. How was he alive? Is that natural? Wait. What happened to Sodapop? Darry and the tagalong Ponyboy? Two-Bit and Dallas and Johnny? Were they gonna be alive and okay like him? God, how the hell did this happen? Then, the truth cam. It all came back to one person: Jake. If he hadn't made Sodapop and himself guard the _thing _he had made, they wouldn't be in the hospital, or worse: dead.

_Ugh. All this worrying and questions are giving my head a squeeze…_

It was true. All the fear and anger swarming around inside has begun to build up something awful, and hell it didn't think to stop. A immediate pressure was hammering in the back of his head, steaming into his retinas. Steve rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands helplessly in some vain attempt to rid him of the burning feeling bubbling inside.

It never stopped. Never took a break for one moment to give his eyes end any pain. They felt like melt through, like popping out of their sockets, and-

_**EZZRR-!**_

And just like that, the pain and pressure stopped.

Instead, Steve looked ahead to find a sizzling burnt hole in the wall ahead of him, only with a few hospital staff peering in awkwardly with wonder and weird looks.

Did he do that? He must've, right? The pressure in his head and eyes never bothered to stop the pain until it finally released and he felt heat shoot through his own vision. But normal people couldn't do that, right? This isn't something everyone else can do, right?

Without another word, Steve threw his legs away from the bed and stumbled into the hallway. His legs were shaky and stiff and sore. _How long was I even asleep?_, he asked himself. But he couldn't stop. Steve wanted answers, starting with the gang, because that was an easier question to solve.

Shoving the other patients and doctors in his way, Steve dashed through the hospital, the worry and panic confidentially rising in his gut once again.

The sooner he found his family, the better.

**oooOOooo**

**This is getting good! I think. What about you? What do you think?**

**My swimming competition went well, and I was ready to begin writing because I have mercilessly put my favorite greasers in a life-or-death explosion that will change their lives more drastically than ever! I suck. ._.**

**But to all those who have an idea on what Johnny and Stevie's powers are, cool! On those who are lost and have no idea what was happening or why this author is rambling again, excuse me and let me clarify the powers (plus, I'll shut up):**

**Johnny: Invisibility. The ability to blend in with his surroundings at will, but couldn't control it at first because he just learned about it. Many others who did a superpower story of their own granted Johnny with this super trait, and since it applies with his personality and home environment, it makes sense.**

**Steve: Plasma blasts through his eyes, chest, and fists. I assumed his eyes would be first because a chest blast felt a little much. These powers are based off of Havok and Cyclops from X-Men (comic and movie.)**

**Also, I would like to point out that the engine core idea (plus the explosion and the guns and armed approach) was inspired by the new Captain Marvel movie. I was still brainstorming ideas for the fic and my family went out to see it, and I was so amazed that I had to use it! (This is not sponsored in any way, shape, or form.)**

**Now, answering your reviews before signing off:**

**Guest: AAAAAAAH I'M SO HAPPY!**

**Guest: I don't know about fun, but I tried to make it interesting! Thx for sticking around though!**

**animefreak5355: You think my chapters are great and suspenseful? ;D Thank you so much!**

**soraxtsuna123: I hope the powers and this chapter overall made sense to you! Heh heh. Thank you for pointing that out, I didn't know about the emotion. Also, thx for reading!**

**Have a great summer, y'all! Stay gold.**

**-Deximon**


	7. Chapter 7: Hospital Frenzy (Pt 2)

The first thing he saw when he woke up was a bright light and a hazy clean smell.

It was a very nice aroma and there was pale white everywhere he looked, although in fairness, he was on his side. Propping himself into a sitting position, Two-Bit yawned as he ran his fingers through his rust-colored hair. Where was the grease jar? It was his lifestyle and such, and it got the short split end out of the way.

He looked around, still brushing the hair from his eyes. The place felt clean enough, very familiar if anything. There were white walls that felt too bright for his taste, most likely because he just woke up and his consciousness when still so fuzzy and his train of thought was running short on well, _running_.

But he heard commotion outside his little seemingly safe haven so he looked out his door, breaking his drifting eye contact with the two little purple flowers sitting in a clear water-filled bouquet, to find some people bustling about. They were wearing white outfits to match; tall professional-like men wearing coats and women wearing thigh-length dresses and were holding clipboards and kits and stretchers.

Oh damn it. He was in a hospital.

Of course, he could've come to that conclusion the moment he looked down and saw that he was wearing one of the gowns fitted for those submitted to the hospital and in need of observation and care, but he didn't.

Two-Bit's head came to newer thoughts. Why the hell was he in a hospital? He didn't remember running for his life or going under some kind of injury that would require help from doctors and such. Hell, he couldn't remember anything recalling the last thing he did. But he felt okay. Maybe he was a bit more tanned, but didn't feel any broken bones or any collapsed lung or life endangering such as that. So why was he here then?

Before he could ponder the notion further, a nurse stopped at his doorway and smiled as she looked in. Two-Bit cut his thinking off short to analyze her. She was slim and tall with a face having those soft features, some pretty bluebell eyes, and straight blonde hair.

With a slow smile building onto his face, Two-Bit relaxed a bit. Maybe he could enjoy it a bit while he's here. After all, he was assigned with a good-looking blondie.

"Well, hello, sweets! Come to look after little ol' me, I presume?", he started, leaning back into his soft pillows. The nurse laughed and played with her skirt a bit.

Her eyes looked right at him, soft and light and understanding and almost kind. "Well, I'm not the doctor who's gonna look after you later, but you're one of the survivors and I decided about myself to see you.", she replied, her laugh dying down and replaced with a smile as patient as her eyes.

Two-Bit felt his heart stop for a moment. _Survivors?_

What kind of deep shit did he fall himself into? Survivors…

The nurse's smile fell seeing his expression and she took a timid step forward. "Listen, I'm betting you have some questions-"

"Wh-What? Questions? What do you mean?", he stammered, trying to pass off as cool. But the pit in his stomach grew with those thoughts sinking into his brain. What the hell happened last night for him to wind up in a hospital because of some mess that put him and some others into a life-or-death situation?

Were they tied somehow?

The nurse sighed and her eyes fell to the floor. "It was two nights ago when the police had found you and six other boys. A gas station blew up, and no one but you and those others were even in one piece. Doctors are still trying to figure that out, but we had family come in to see you and those boys. You're gonna be kept in for observation for the time being, but apparently, there's nothing wrong with you…"

At that, Two-Bit drowned out the rest of her explanation as everything came back.

Every sickening memory.

Steve was there, they were all there when the DX exploded and Two-Bit felt something change with his body as he made the slow-motion trip to the ground. He thought for sure he was dead. Now he thought they were all dead.

But what if they weren't?

What if they were miracles like him and they also managed to survive?

He had to know. If he had to be hit with another revelation of what happened, what did she say, _two f***ing nights ago_, then he will go batshit crazy!

Not that he wasn't batshit crazy already.

"Excuse me? Are you okay?"

With a swift motion, Two-Bit shoved the bedsheets off of his torso and staggered out of the bed, making is bottom half feeling so cold. He felt himself falling over to the side in his attempt to escape but he was caught by what he swore was that blonde broad.

"Wait, what're you doing up?" she asked, only a little bit panicked. He gave her a glance before trying to free himself from her arms.

"I'm sorry, beautiful, but I just have to see those boys. I think those are my family."

With a pink face from the name given, the nurse thought for a second, maybe because of the "family" thing and on how they would even _look_ so similar. With that, Two-Bit took quick advantage. Wrapping his hands around her wrists, he pushed them off to her sides and he lunged forward, ignoring her cries and the murmurs and hisses of the staff.

He had one thing on his mind, and he persistently wanted to get it.

If, of course, he could find them.

Maybe they weren't even here!

But hey, he wouldn't have shoved that pretty nurse out of his way if he thought the gang would be here.

With a surprisingly one-track mind, he ran.

Well, he thought he did.

Because it only took a second before hitting an invisible something and encountered complete déjà vu.

One moment he was only a few feet away from his room and now, he was on the floor, something soft beneath him. He heard a groan, one he swore was from himself and the other under him.

"Uh…second time today…"

Wait. He knew that voice. That timid shy kindred-spirited voice that belonged to their gang. Their pet, their rock, their _kid brother_.

Two-Bit felt his eyes widen and his signature smile appear when he looked down at the startled tanned face.

"Johnny!"

"Two-Bit!"

Pulling the younger boy to his feet, Two-Bit nearly tackled him back to the floor again when he grabbed him into a bone-crushing hug, Johnny slowly returning it.

"Oh my God! You're alive!", Two-Bit rejoiced not loosing his grip on the younger greaser before finally putting him back down and giving a noogie on his fluffy and ungreased black-hair head.

Johnny laughed and held Two-Bit's forearm fondly. "I'm happy to see you too, Two-Bit."

Pulling away, Two-Bit gazed into the latter's black eyes and at that moment, all he could think about was the explosion. If Johnny was in the hospital too, could he be involved as well? He had to know.

"Johnny, do you remember some, I don't know, freak accident as telling me why yous in a hospital again?"

Johnny paled a bit and Two-Bit then regretted bringing it up. The poor kid apparently didn't look so comfortable with the question asked upon him, and Two-Bit felt saddened.

But he spoke up. "Well, I don't know if you know, but I woke up here about the news talking about the gas station blowing up. You, me, and the gang were the only survivors."

_Holy shit, there was that word again._

So they were in the gas station explosion.

"A nurse told me that you guys were okay, but I still wanted to see you, so I just walked down the hall. Then I saw some quick blur and I fell down to see you.", he continued, bangs falling into his eyes.

Relief spread through Two-Bit suddenly, and he sighed. They were alive, all of them alive! Of course, he still had questions, but they are still gonna go find the gang, whether in the white haven or outside on the cold mean streets, and gain answers then.

"Boy, it's great to see you, Johnny! But I didn't see you, mostly because I was running so fast.", he claimed, his smile returning after a brief listen.

Johnny nodded. "I could tell. I haven't seen anyone run that fast ever. It was almost like you've gone faster than anyone normal could.", he said, brushing the bangs away.

Two-Bit said nothing for a second. _Gone faster than anyone normal could_. What the hell did that mean? What did he have, some kind of sudden quick speed or something? Look, whatever it was, they had to put it aside to find them.

But a voice was heard behind them.

"Two-Bit? Johnny?"

The two looked around, heads close to snapping they were so fast, and eyes widened in shock.

"Steve?"

With a rare broad grin as well as misty eyes, Steve approached the two, hand on the wall to support his weight. As he came closer, Two-Bit put his arm affectionately around his shoulders, overjoyed to find only two of his family in less than an hour between awakening.

"Oh, finally. Our little family is halfway back together!", Two-Bit whooped.

Steve chuckled for a moment before releasing himself from the redhead's grip. "Yeah, good to see you too, Two. Hiya, kid," Steve greeted, nodding in Johnny's direction, in which Johnny replied with a small smile. But Steve's atmosphere then faltered, and his eyes suddenly got serious, which unsettled Two-Bit greatly. The pit returned, only the size of a muffin in his stomach.

"Only a question: were you two in the gas station a few nights ago?" Steve asked gruffly.

Both of them nodded.

Steve's eyes fell back to the floor and Two-Bit felt a distance in his demeanor. They really had to find the gang and get out of here so they could put the matter behind them.

"Just to let you know, the boys are alive and should be okay. You were the only two I could find," Johnny stated, shuffling himself closer to Two-Bit. Steve sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"I guess those are good news. Just…I ain't okay, guys. There's weird shit going on here and I ain't feeling anything good about it.", he drawled, a voice empty.

"Well, shoot. We ain't either. We should be dead, but we ain't. But first things first, let's get going. We could sleep better knowing that we could put this all behind us.", Two-Bit pointed out, gesturing towards the end of the hallway. He decided not to out any of his classic humor in his voice because really, where would he place it? He was as spooked as Steve and Johnny were, and they had to do something about it.

Putting his arm around Stevie's shoulders again, Two-Bit guided them down the hallway, occasionally looking at his feet. For all they know, Two-Bit was not gonna run as fast as Johnny described.

At least for the time being.

But who knows? Maybe if this ever seemed to happen again, perhaps he could join Ponyboy on the track team next year.

**oooOOooo**

**Well that was a short one. I'm not as happy as I was, but I always hate myself for keeping you guys waiting! I added Two-Bit finding Johnny and Steve because well, I can't keep them away for too long. I want them together when the gang reunites and they interrogate Steve for what the hell he was thinking!**

**And as I'm sure y'all might've guessed, I gave Two-Bit super speed. He could run faster than the average human being and maybe, in a future chappie, I could have him catch a few bullets! (Foreshadowing, perhaps?)**

**Now, time to answer some reviews!**

**Guest: I have plans to keep going. Tysm!**

**DailyFeather: I laughed a bit to myself at the visual too! I've seen some cartoon and TV shows and media at how whenever some hole is made by a character, some background characters are bound to awkwardly look in. So I've decided to throw that in. Thank you!**

**soraxtsuna123: I think so too. I've considered invisibility for a while, and I was pondering for Steve's power until I saw X-Men: Apocalypse. Seeing Havok destroy Charles' mind machine during that one scene inspired me. (A lot of Marvel/DC moments are used as inspiration in this story. Trust me.) Thank you for reading! I'm doing my best. ;**

**Thank you for reading. I promise I'll try to make the next one more interesting for you. Have a good day! Stay gold. ;3**

**-Deximon**


	8. Chapter 8: Hospital Reunion

Steve had already lost how long they've been walking.

Every hallway looked the same to him; every one had a bunch of room on the sides with crippling patients and they were all filled with nurses writing, doctors discussing, and families shouting and sobbing. The trio have even came across a family who was hugging and crying so much, Steve thought they were spreading pinkeye.

Thankfully, they weren't.

And they looked like Socs to him, but he didn't care. They were just making a scene, but that wasn't what mattered.

What mattered made his blood boil in frustration. Why couldn't they find the other members of the gang? Johnny's words kept echoing in his skull. The ones saying the Curtis brothers and Dally are alive and that they were seemingly fine, just like himself and Two-Bit and Johnny. But why did they have to be so separate?

With an exasperated sigh, Steve looked back down at the ground, a sticky hole the size of a head wallowed in his stomach. Even if they could find them, much less well and living, he knew they were gonna have questions. Johnny didn't ask any, but he confirmed that he was aware about the explosion two nights ago. Same went for Two-Bit, but he was too busy leading the three and staring at his feet stumbling.

But Darry, being the unofficial leader, will demand answers, particularly about the foolish action of pulling up McAllister's gun and shooting it at the engine, which did cause the explosion. It wouldn't have taken long for him to piece the night together from what his memories presented. And secretly, Steve dreaded that talk with the oldest Curtis brother, namely because he was on his bad side once by calling him "all brawn and no brains".

(Of course, he never called him that again. He had to see his eighteenth birthday before he could die in the hands of his irritation again.)

The three took another turn, where the adrenaline-filled energy had slowly disappeared. Of course they were still worried, but they lost the sense of rush. But as they were halfway down the corridor, a eardrum-bursting screech from a room down the hall. A few staff jumped and paled a bit while a few nurses shoved those still unmoving and entered quickly. Steve felt himself following with Two-Bit and Johnny by his side and the hole begun to twist at the familiar sound.

Poking their heads in, Steve felt his jaw open.

His best friend Sodapop, asleep, twisting and brushing and struggling in the bed, shouting his lungs off. By his side, a massively worried Darry was standing by the headboard in a vain attempt at comfort with Ponyboy next to him, eyes wide and glistening. At least two nurses were clutching Soda's damp body, hands gently but firmly holding his wrists and chest, desperately pleading and demanding him to wake up.

It was not that pleasant of a sight to witness.

It was actually a harsh one.

It was only a couple more moments of the constant shouts from the room before Soda was awake, knocking foreheads with a nurse above him. His eyes were distressed, he was sweating like he was chased by hell, his hair was falling limply across his forehead and plastering themselves to his face. His was gasping and panting, his brothers silently rubbing his back. Steve tore his eyes away from the scene, avoiding the peeking crowd at the doorway, and glanced at his companions.

Two-Bit's grey eyes were stormy and the pupils were shrunken a bit, clearly taken aback from what unfolded in front of him. Johnny was as white as the sheets and his was breathing deeply and shakily. Stress and fear had taken over them drastically, and Steve could only imagine the thoughts running in their heads.

But then Soda gasped, "Steve."

The nurses had silently left, most likely to get a doctor, leaving the boys alone. (Clearly, Steve didn't miss the strange looks given from them, as if they never expected them to be here.)

Ponyboy and Darry snapped their heads in his direction, having listened to Sodapop's quiet gasp. Steve saw Pony's face light up at the sight of them, although he never moved from his spot. Sodapop's eyes fell on each wide-eyed greaser, and his face held relief and embarrassment. A tiny broad smile bloomed on his face just watching.

But Darry held his own. He didn't break a grin at them or have his eyes widen in joy. He did, however, flex his eyebrow in surprise, still by Soda's side. His expression appeared to have mixed thoughts, feelings rushing through his cranium on how to make of this. Along with that, if Soda had to guess, memories flashing from the other night.

As Pony gave Johnny a tight hug, Two-Bit smiled again. "Well, look at that! Our family is back together! Now all we need is the New York hothead. Wherever he is.."

"You mean right here? Well, the hothead's got a few things to say."

Steve twisted his face and there he was. Dallas Winston in all his glory. He was surprised to see them and broke a rare smile, if Steve had to guess, at the sight of Johnny. He strolled over and leaned on the doorframe. "I wake up and I'm at a damn hospital. Can anybody tell me why that is?", he asked, crossing his arms.

Steve felt his jaw tighten. Here they come.

Two-Bit shifted his feet on the floor. "Well, shoot. The crazies here have been talking about us surviving something. It's all they ever doing now.", he replied, Steve not missing the storm in his eyes and flinch in his shoulders.

Johnny sat next to Soda on a hard plastic chair, his gaze to the floor. "The DX blew up. That's why we're here. We made it out alive."

The nostalgic silence went on for a long time and no one filled it for a while.

Steve felt the atmosphere thicken and he suddenly felt cold. His arms were starting to prickle and a chill traveled in his organs.

"I remember that. It was armed with guys and Steve pointed a gun at some machine," Pony shivered, his voice thudding across the room. He wrapped his arms around his chest and he exhaled heavily.

Darry's lips curled into a thin white line, his blue-green eyes set on Steve's hazel ones, imitating thick shining ice. Steve felt the back of neck prickle at the intensity. "Hmm. I'm remembering that too. Steve, I have a few things to ask. Where'd you get both the machine and the gun."

There it was.

Steve opened his mouth than closed it again. He expected those questions. C'mon, now as the time to answer! Why was it so hard? Why couldn't he speak? Was it the fact he feared his fate if he confessed to Darry and the boys McAllister's gun and core? Would they understand? Would he get shunned from the brothers he calls family? He would half- expect them to turn their backs on hi, but at least give him a roof to keep him dry. But would they?

Wait, what about Sodapop?

What about his best friend?

He guessed that a life-threatening, non-trustworthy, major secret like this is gonna leave thoughts into his brother's heads. After all, since Mr. and Mrs. Curtis passed away, they were all they had left. They faced social workers, just at the ready to tear the apart if the slightest thing went wrong. What if this was it, the ticket to tip the scale and send the middle and baby Curtis' into a boys home?

There was no chance in that happening.

No sir.

Steve looked at Darry, who waited patiently for his answer, arms firmly crossed. He sighed. "The truth is…"

His throat tightened.

"Just two weeks ago, some mad scientist came to the DX door. I was locking up and he gave me a gun and a engine core that was his own invention and he told me to hide it. Now I told him to f*** off and throw the damn thing away, but he wanted to save his ass and insisted I kept it," Steve confessed.

_See, now, that wasn't a total lie._

Darry thought for a moment, not speaking. Finally, he claimed, "That night, a guy came to us. Damien, was it? He said something about a Jake McAllister. Was that him? After all, he was talking about some _engine_ to save our troops in Vietnam. _Right?_" The venom in his voice was quite visible.

Steve didn't reply. All he did was lean against the doorframe and nod.

Darry approached him with heavy bare footsteps, his face twisted. Steve swallowed and pressed his back firmly against the door, hands wet and trailing the egg-colored walls. _Quit it. Face Darry and answer his questions like an adult!_

"When the hell were you planning to tell us this?", he asked just when he was nearly arms' length.

Steve looked around. Anywhere was better than staring into Darry's eyes at the moment. "I don't know. I was hoping that I could throw it away into that river near town, but then that Shawn guy came, he hissed something to Soda, and I knew that I had to get rid of it.", he said.

"And why'd you rope in Sodapop?"

"I guess I needed someone to vent to, Darryl. But there I told you everything. Soda was waiting outside when you guys followed and then the other bitches came, and I shot the core because the doctor told me to in case they came."

The silence filled the room again. Inhaling sharply, Steve finally managed the guts to look at Darry and he swore that his eye twitched as he tried to process the information.

"You do f***ing realize that you could've killed us with that?!", he snapped.

Steve was a bit taken aback by Darry's comment. _He never_ swore, and if he did, something real awful had to have happened. But this was big-level stuff, so Steve was only surprised by the father of all swear words used in the sentence.

But Steve was aware of himself that the gang wanted answers. So they asked so they receive.

Right?

Pushing his weight off the wooden frame, Steve took a step towards the eldest Curtis brother. "Look, it wasn't my fault! I was gonna deny it then-"

He stopped.

No. Don't drag Sodapop into it.

No blame.

It wasn't his friend's fault.

"Then what?", Darry shouted, raising his voice. Steve shook out of his stupor and exhaled a breath he never knew he had.

"I guess I just couldn't let him go like that. I accepted that ass' favor and I looked after the damned thing.", he finished, adverting his gaze to the floor. He wasn't let himself look at the gang, especially Sodapop. At least, not now.

"So what, you decided to _shoot_ the thing?", Darry snarled, fists trembling at his sides.

Steve didn't get the chance to respond before multiple doctors appeared at the door. One tall man wearing large round glasses poked Darry in the side. "Um, excuse me. Hate to break this up, but we need you all to return to our rooms. We need to observe you all before you can be sent home.", he declared.

With a hard-earned glare, Darry transferred his gaze from the doctor to Steve, fire in his icy eyes, if that were possible. "Fine.", he replied calmly.

But he lowered his voice and leaned in protectively. "But we'll settle this later.", he said venomously.

The sentence continued echoing in Steve's head as the doctors took the boys, including himself, back to their rooms.

**oooOOooo**

**God I hate myself for how long this took.**

**I had a dance camp so I apologize greatly if this chappie was bleak and not descriptive enough. Every muscle is just so sore! But I always look back and see these wonderful reviews and I feel so motivated! So thank you again. They all mean so much!**

**Now, time to answer reviews:**

**Guest: Zooming like Flash, am I right?**

**Guest: Thank you!**

**Guest: Your wish is granted. Thank you for reading!**

**soraxtsuna123: Good thing to point out. Two-Bit was known to be a quick-witted kind of person and is very energetic, and being a lovable alcoholic as he is, having the inability to get drunk whilst containing this power will be difficult for him. Thank you again!**

**I'll see you next time. Don't forget the three rules in the Outsiders fandom:**

**1\. Johnny Cade is our smol bean.**

**2\. Take the time to watch a sunset.**

**3\. Stay gold! Always!**

**-Deximon**


	9. Chapter 9: Home

The next few days that were in the hospital were semi-blurry to him.

To be honest, there honestly wasn't much about the mandatory stay that Sodapop could live and tell for. All he could remember off the top of his head were a bunch of whitecoats coming into his quiet room and asking questions, along with the police and a few reporters visiting just to ask some more questions.

The multiple voices that echoed across the shining pale walls made is head hurt, and while he usually didn't mind being surrounded by so many newspaper writers just so he can show off his so-called "movie star personality", being mauled by so many people was honestly the last thing Soda needed at this point. He could barely handle _one _nurse to check on him, let alone so many newspaper reporters.

Half of his days in his hospital rooms were quiet, and the other half that wasn't revolves around seeing more staff than the other average patients should. They always seem to take him out of his bed, which was uncomfortable for him and very cold, they make him use his other limbs in a separate room in front of others for notes. Sodapop couldn't say in words how stupid and irritating it was to have a doctor instruct you on taking the simple necessities, like eating and running laps and exercising, and others are watching and talking amongst themselves. To him, the experience was unsettling and very distracting.

Luckily for him, it was only a one-time-daily thing, and once he was back to resting in his room, he still had time to think. And boy, was there one thing on his mind to think about!

How could he?

How in the world did he not defend his best friend against his oldest brother?

He never even said anything about his own involvement in the DX explosion!

That was the only infecting his mind the whole time, and he never let it slip, even when a few therapists were recommended and came to visit.

But that was the routine for him. Have food given, the fuzz and reporters will ask him migraine-worthy questions, work with the doctors on his observations, and come back to his room to grieve and regret and worry.

Then, after what felt like at least a month confined to the hospital, a doctor came into his room and told him that it was the time. He was your average human with working limbs and muscles that weren't fractured nor damaged. It left many scratching heads, but it meant one thing.

Time to leave.

It was time to go.

No more dingy hospital scent.

No more doctors giving you the daily checkups and clipboard tests.

No more nurses feeding you and dragging him to those tests.

No more feeling of loneliness.

He was going home with the gang, who seemed to be in the same stable condition as he is. Everything was working, only the cuts and scraps and scars from the rubble of the station stitched and bandaged and all are ready to go home.

Everything seemed normal to them. Everything seemed normal to him.

So why did he feel something that was a little different?

**oooOOooo**

The first thing Soda noticed when they came home was that everyone was more cautious toward his best friend.

He assumed that the first clue should've been the silent treatment given to his buddy when all seven boys were checked out. Their vehicles were taken to repair considering that they were damaged in the explosion. Part of the rubble and mass friction of the blast caused them to crash. And while the DX was being rebuilt, they had no ride.

Meaning they had to walk.

Luckily for them, they lived not so far from each other, so the walk home was manageable. There also wasn't any trouble, since they passed their own observations themselves, meaning that they could walk and run fine. The walk home was silent however, and it didn't feel all that comfortable anyway.

As they tried not to, the gang avoided Steve's gaze, whose eyes held a dark emotion, almost lost. Ponyboy and Johnny stayed in the back, glancing delicately at Steve, monitoring his moves. Sodapop swore to himself that he could see some uncertainty and fear in their eyes, almost not giving him the comfort of pulling off such a stupid motif again.

Dallas, Darry, and Two-Bit in front and they would walk in pride, displaying Steve with the cold shoulder. They would sometimes make a quarter head turn to pass a glare at the dark-haired boy, earning a blank stare back. With the exchanges from each member of the gang, Soda felt himself becoming more guilty as guilty does.

Why couldn't he speak up? Why wouldn't he confess right now?

The middle Curtis swallowed hard and rubbed his eyes as he walked slower, leaving himself behind. The rubble-infested demolished DX gas station was covered in police tape and many officers and construction workers were confessing amongst themselves. Only a few saw them, and they said nothing to their fellow piers. Instead, they flexed eyebrows and bit their lips in fascination and deep thought.

Soda felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand and he transferred his gaze back to the boys walking faster and more ahead of him. It didn't appear to him that they noticed.

With that, Soda was stuck on whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.

**oooOOooo**

For the first week, Steve rarely came by.

He would know, mostly because he didn't have a mandatory excuse to leave the house. While he was free to come and go as he pleased, he felt down and out of sorts since leaving. As in something wasn't quite right. One of those things were that Steve didn't come. What Darry and what felt to be the gang must've done to shoo him away must've done the trick, because while Soda was recalling every life-scarring event up to this moment, the final major scene was that Steve didn't place Sodapop any ounce of blame.

The worst part was, he himself said nothing in his defense!

Sodapop flipped in the couch onto his back, leaning his head up against the cushions, chewing the inside of his mouth in anxiety that begun building up in his stomach, twisting and cramping. Why did he say nothing? Was it the fact that his subconscious was forcing his brain to relapse upon every fear and headstrong emotion bumbling for almost a month since Jake showed up? The initial shock of it all?

Or was it that he had no idea where to start? How could he have the courage to tell his older brother, now his full-fledged guardian, a man who sacrificed his should-have-been college days for his final pieces of family, and his little brother, who is going to somehow make something of himself, that he highly involved in a life-or-possible-death task that they desperately hung on to and spontaneously failed at?

Soda growled and made fists at his sides.

What a goddamn bitch he is.

Here he was, moping at what consequences his brothers were going to serve him on a platter at his honesty that he didn't think on his buddy's own point of view that _he _came clean and took the blame himself.

But why?

The seventeen-year-old heaved himself off the couch and marched over to his room, graciously throwing the door open. Over the course of the first two days, Ponyboy had barricaded himself inside, either reading or sleeping or being lost in that wild imagination of his. But Darry made him go to school with Two-Bit and Johnny, ("You will not be missing any more than you have," he said. "You know it goes on your permanent record."), and with Dally running off and causing trouble as he did and Darry off to work, that meant leaving Soda alone.

After all, his job blew up in his face.

Literally.

He put on his signature plaid shirt and ignored the unstoppable wave of memories as he glanced at his DX shirt, the one that could usually forget to put on in the mornings, tucked away in the darkest corner of the closet. He didn't bother to close it, leaving his still-white t-shirt exposed as he left out the door without a trace.

**oooOOooo**

Sodapop found Steve, who was parked outside the stations ruins.

He hitched his thumbs in the belt holes of his jeans, sudden new-yet-old unease bubbling up once more as he approached. Seeing his face closer, he saw Steve's expression. He was leaning against the slightly disintegrated DX sign carefully, one hip cocked outward and arms crossed. His eyes were dark and lost, almost as if he was off the Earth and into his own mindscape, watching the still building.

Soda finally found his voice.

"Steve."

Steve flinched a little bit at the word, his head turned over his shoulder, eyes now baffled, obviously showing that he was not expecting the middle Curtis boy to appear there. But as fast as it came, it was gone. His eyes narrowed in a rigid fashion, licking his lips.

"What're you doing here?" His voice wasn't meant to be rude, but Soda still jumped at the stony aura that was giving off his attitude.

Soda felt his fingers entwine in thought. This was not what he was hoping this was going. _Focus on the subject, Pepsi-Cola. Use your head and remember why you're here! _"We need to talk," he claimed.

Steve's eyes got dark again. "What's there to talk about? Life's almost back to the way it was."

"No. I _do _have something to talk to you about!", Soda protested, stepping closer. Steve's head turned back to the destruction ahead of him. God, what the hell happened? Steve got shady since the hospital, and Soda felt the dread rise higher.

Steve chuckled and shook his head. "I'm serious, man," Soda continued. "It's about…what happened at the hospital."

At that, Steve's eyes widened, giving his buddy the sign that he was caught off his guard. It wasn't like he expected that to spill.

"Why?", he queried.

"Why what?"

Soda squinted and pinched his lips into a thin line. Did he know or was he faking ignorance of the subject? No, he knew what he was talking about, and his patience was running thin. He had to get it straight!

Soda smacked Steve's shoulder and crossed his arms. "I'm talking about you telling the guys about…", he stopped. God, bringing the core up was harder than he imagined. _C'mon, don't be a coward. Not now!_

"The core? How I was the one who looked after it? How I was the one who destroyed it?"

Soda closed his readied mouth and felt his forehead crinkle a bit in perplexed manner. He didn't have to finish it after all. At least, not by himself. Dumbly, he nodded.

Steve smirked and looked ahead. "Yeah. Boy, was Superman mad! More upset than when I called him 'all brawn and no brains'," he chuckled humorlessly. Soda felt his mood darken at the thought. He wasn't one to be angry at his friend, but he was aware that his folks couldn't sum up the money to pay for college, not even with that well-deserved athletic scholarship from his last football game!

But he was that day, and he was now.

Steve wasn't finished, however. "We exchanged a lot of colorful words while you were snoozing your ass off, Soda. I'm surprised you didn't wake up! But it was actually good that you didn't. After all the fights Darry and the tagalong squirt got into, you must've felt pretty lousy to not wake up."

_God, is he trying to push me over the edge tonight? What the hell's wrong with him?_

But the other greaser caught his expression and is smirk melted away into a sympathetic frown. "Look, I'm beating around the bush, so I'll tell you what matters. I took the fall and you're off the hook. Darry and Pony don't know, Johnny and Dal don't know, Two-Bit don't know. You're safe for another day, let it go."

Let it go?

Let it go?!

"Why? Why in the world would I let it go, Steve!", Soda baffled, making fists at his side. Steve raised an eyebrow and sigh.

"Like I said, you are safe."

"What-"

Safe.

Oh shit.

Soda's shoulder hunched and he deflated on the spot. "You mean the social workers, right?", he muttered, his mind elsewhere. He didn't have to tear his gaze from the floor to know that Steve nodded in confirmation.

He groaned and hit his thigh with a newly formed fist, the feeling of guilt overshadowing his inner-working mind. He put his friend before himself! Ever since grade school, Steve has been nothing but a good man to be around. Maybe he wasn't perfect, maybe he was one to hold a grudge and went on picking fights, but this was a man who still attended dinners with the gang and maintained a firm friendship with them for years.

And what for? To crash and burn because of a task that he never wanted to participate? A task that he, Sodapop Curtis, made him do all because he took pity upon the cowardly runaway scientist, who _apparently _couldn't take matters into his own f***ing hands?

This was never Steve's fault.

It was his. From the beginning.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie."

Steve chuckled again, now with a hint of humor in it. "You are calling me Stevie now? I thought that was Two-Bit's thing."

Soda looked at the boy, puzzled and upset. How could he joke at this?

"Steve, I'm serious! This is all my fault and you are going to joke about Two-Bit's stupid nickname for you?", he questioned incredulously, moving his hands in strong emotion.

Steve waved his palms in return. "Why would you blab on saying that this is your fault? It ain't."

"It is, Steve! It f***ing is! Who was the one who didn't say anything when you were confessing? Who was the one who didn't take the engine out of the station sooner that night? Who was the one who made you scared to death to bring us to that drag race? Who was the one who caused us to look after that dangerous piece of metal?" he practically yelled in Steve's face.

Steve looked almost regretful and Soda felt his eyes flicker and blur as his arms crossed, an upsetting surge. "I put us in this mess, Randle. And you are saying that it's your fault? You is taking the blow for both of us?", he finished.

"Soda, what is the absolute _worst _possible thing that's gonna happen to me if I confess? My stuck-up drunk old man ain't gonna do nothing except complain on how much misery I'm causing in his life and the Socs are gonna want my blood on the streets for endangering everyone here!", he blurted, expression wild.

Soda didn't reply. He said his argument in the matter. Now it was his turn to listen.

"Sure, Darrel's gonna be angry with me for a while, but what else is new? It's not gonna be fair to you, who has two loving family left, to drag you down with me to the dark side. Who knows what the social workers would've done?"

The sensation in his veins burned hotter and they channeled all over his hands.

"You have it rougher than I will. But it won't matter. You are off the hook, you stay under Superman's watch until you turn eighteen next year to leave the nest," Steve finished. His eyebrows are raised into his swirls and Soda felt his hands tingle and burn on the inside as his blood grew hotter.

Making a fist, Soda directed it at the teen, hitting him square in the shoulder.

"I _don't _have my life rough, Steve, what the hell were you saying! At least Darry has the guts to actually pay attention to me and Pony and not go off drinking to beat us up for kicks!"

He knew he crossed a line, but he had to make Steve realize that he needed blame here.

"I'm in as much shit as you are, kid. And I swear, I am scared to death to face the gang, but you don't need to go through-"

The energy channeled in his flesh, swimming and circling as fast as a group of bees surrounding a flower. But it released not long after. It emerged somehow, in the fist-turned-pointing finger that was in Steve's face, glowing magenta. The same magenta that painted the core.

Soda's eyeballs widened, almost bulging out of their sockets at the view, rotating his palm and flexing and bending and straightening his fingers, scaring yet intriguing him at the same time, making him want the glow to stay.

The other greaser's mouth hung open at the sight, struggling to find words. At that point, Soda couldn't either.

What was this? Some sort of energy had infiltrated his body and caused this glow of wisps to surge in his skin and break free from his palm. Did the core do this? Some sort of side effect, perhaps? If so, why couldn't the doctors read it in the tests they performed?

"What the hell?", Steve finally asked.

Soda shook his head slowly in response, watching in awe as the magenta light flowed shakily yet gracefully through and over and under his bent fingers. "I don't know, man."

He stopped, and every wisp of energy faded away into the warm air. Steve looked up and closed his eyes, running his fingers through his dark hair, grumbling, "God, this is weird shit."

Soda's face scrunched in confusion, but Steve came up with an answer before he could open his mouth. "This ain't the first weird thing that happened since the station went up in flames."

He counted on his fingers as he kept going. "Two-Bit's been running at the speed of those jungle cats in the forest and Johnny went air-colored under our noses."

"What are ya saying, man?"

"I'm saying that Mathews is running faster than he should and Johnny's disappearing at will!"

His first instinct was to not believe any of it. Running fast, disappearing. He isn't one to be like this. Hell, he is one of the member of the gang who was as down to Earth as it got! But now, he was sounding like Ponyboy!

_What? What did they explosion done to them? To us?_

But Steve looked around and he leaned into Soda, appearing sure that he was safe. "And check this shit out." He wiggled his fingers and closed them into a fist, only to be coated in a neon green burning light, hot and electric revolving the flesh on him.

Oh god.

As quick as it came, Steve shook it away, holding the fisted arm crossed with his chest. "I can burn through anything, with my hands and my eyes."

"As in, laser vision and energy?", Sodapop asked, his face in awe and frightened at the same time. These were their side effects, and now he has them too. Do Ponyboy and Darry have some of those powers too? Dallas, if Steve and Johnny and Two-Bit have them?

"It's freaky as hell. I even tried to get rid of it, and I was thinking of my revenge on McAllister on giving me something strange that I don't even want. But there had been no way we could make it through the DX blowing up, so some freak accident gave us whatever these are," he shrugged.

Soda nodded. "Besides, we're alive, right?"

Steve laughed and nudged his friend.

"I'm telling them you know."

"Do I wanna ask if it's about the powers or the blame?"

"It's time things had gotten fair that day we got together at the hospital, Stevie."

Steve rolled his hazel pupils, the smirk appearing once more.

**oooOOooo**

**This will somehow be a Stevepop story, I just know it.**

**Powers are back y'all, and Soda's coming clean! What will Darry and Ponyboy say? What will they say about their powers? Stay and find out! But first, Sodapop's powers are based off of Scarlet Witch from Marvel. (I saw Endgame over the weekend. S)**

**Now, to answer reviews:**

**DailyFeather: Well, it revealed Sodapop's superpower. I will try to reveal the abilities of the remaining three in the next chapter. See you next time!**

**soraxtsuna123: Thank you! I don't see a lot of stories focusing so much on their friendship. Steve might be a headstrong guy, but he is portrayed as a bit of a jerk. And Soda wouldn't be friends with a jerk. At least, that's how I see it. Thanks again, and keep up the great work!**

**Your kind reviews and favorites and follows make me happy and motivated. Keep them rolling! Have a good night, everyone!**

**-Deximon**


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